


The Measure of a Soul

by paradiamond



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: His Dark Materials Inspired, M/M, daemon AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 46,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3066140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradiamond/pseuds/paradiamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every hobbit, man, elf, and wizard in Middle Earth has a daemon, an animal that represents and holds a part of their soul. Bilbo and his daemon Madge get swept up on an adventure with one wizard and thirteen daemonless dwarves, including the enigmatic Thorin Oakenshield. The quest tests Bilbo and Madge in many ways, but not as much as Thorin himself does. How can Bilbo love someone without a daemon?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strange Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who doesn't know, daemons (dæmons) are Phillip Pullman's invention and are essentially intelligent animal familiars that are a part of the person's soul. They are always a different gender from the person, they can change shape when the person is a child but settle into one animal when they mature, and they can't go more than ten feet or so from each other. 
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D%C3%A6mon_%28His_Dark_Materials%29

Nothing much happens in the quiet Shire, which is just to the liking of its inhabitants, including Bilbo Baggins and his daemon Madge. Preferring to go about their business in peace and quiet, and quite without the interference of outsiders, they keep to themselves. The quiet lifestyle suit them well, as it does most of the Shire. However, this means that every little thing that _does_ happen can be seen as remarkable and with two pairs of eyes to every soul, will almost always be remarked upon. 

“There! It’s back,” Hamfast Gamgee’s daemon exclaims, prompting Bilbo and Hamfast to both look up.

“Sorry?” Bilbo asks, but Hamfast is squinting and pointing up at the sky, their conversation quite forgotten already. Bilbo looks up too with a sigh, shading his eyes from the sun. They are standing at Bilbo’s gate, supposedly to discuss the latest cross turnouts, but Hamfast apparently has more interest in staring at whatever it is that his daemon has seen than he does in the businesses. 

Hamfast points to a small shape in the sky. “Right you are Malva, there it is again. That eagle has been circling all day.” He frowns and shakes his head.

At their feet, the badger daemon puffs itself up with pride and Bilbo smiles. “Quite. Keen eyes Malva,” he says, though he doesn’t know why it warranted comment in the first place. Of course it would be rude to say, so he keeps it to himself. Unfortunately, Madge has always been less inclined to politeness. 

“What does it matter?” the cat daemon says, jumping up onto the gate and twitching one curled ear. She blinks her big green eyes up at both of them. “It’s just a bird.” 

Hamfast frowns harder and Malva turns her keen eyes to them, prompting a nervous laugh from Bilbo. “She’s joking. Now, what about the potatoes?” 

Ten minutes later Bilbo is closing his front door with a snap and shooting a glare at his worse half. “Why do you always try to get me into trouble you great Took of a cat?” 

Madge shoots him a side eyed glance on her way to the pantry. “Because you need me to or else you’d never get anywhere.” She jumps onto a barrel that holds his wine supply. “An eagle. Please. There aren’t any eagles around here.” 

Bilbo takes a half-hearted swat at her which she bats away with one paw good naturedly before he gathers up his lunch. “You have been making trouble for me my whole life, you’re lucky you’re my best friend you know or I’d have you out in the cold come winter.”

“Bilbo,” she purrs, the afternoon sun catching the highlights in her golden brown fur. “I’m your only friend.” 

Laughing, Bilbo picks out the cheese he wants and hovers over the fish. “Feel like eating today?” 

“Hm.” Madge jumps from the barrel to his shoulder, Bilbo adjusting to her weight without thinking. “Not today I think.” 

“Alright.” 

Bilbo takes his lunch in the study, which would have given his father a fit if he had been there to see it, eating with one hand and pouring over a new book with the other, Madge lounging and reading on his shoulder. The book is a fascinating history of daemon lore that he’d had delivered from Bree. He runs his finger over the illustration of a daemon stone used in the world of men, a carved likeness of the deceased daemon that is buried or displayed at the grave site or tomb. 

“The Kings of Numenor started the practice of immortalizing both man and daemon in stone which quickly spread to the rest of the island and then to other realms of men,” Madge reads aloud while Bilbo busies himself with the tea pot. “That is just foolish.” 

“Why?” Bilbo asks over his shoulder. 

“Because they are the same thing, or don’t men understand that? Why make a separate statue or carving?” 

Bilbo shrugs. “I think it’s nice.” 

Madge rolls her eyes. “Well we are _not_ doing it. Having both names carved on the grave was good enough for your parents, it's good enough for the rest of the Shire, and it’s good enough for us too.” 

They’re halfway through the book when Madge suddenly stiffens, a sharp tap on the window ringing out not a half second later. Bilbo jolts and looks up into the face of an eagle about the size of a small dog clinging to the window shutters and regarding him with a serious expression, if eagles can indeed have expressions. 

Bilbo sets the book down, extending his arm so Madge can walk along it to the desk to investigate. She had always been the braver of the two. The eagle, protected by glass, doesn’t flinch away from her as she peers at it. “There’s no one out there, it must just be a bird.” 

“It’s not a deamon?” Bilbo asks, leaning down to look through the window as well. But she’s right, there’s no one there.

“Apparently not. It’s too far away from any person, unless there’s an elf around here somewhere and we just haven’t noticed,” Madge says, fluffy tail twitching. Bilbo gives it a sharp tug. 

“Well let’s leave it alone, it’s a lovely animal in any case.” It tilts its head and its feathers glint in the sun, silver and shiny like the stars. “It has a proud, elegant face.” 

“Fine,” Madge grumbles, stepping delicately between pots of ink and tea cups to jump to the floor. “But I don’t want to look at it anymore!” 

The eagle doesn’t leave however, and they see it almost everyday for the next week, sometimes perched on the roof or the mailbox, sometimes circling high in the sky. It never seems to do anything destructive, but it's a bother nonetheless. People start to grumble about it as a sign of ‘unnaturalness’ and Bilbo even catches one member of the Sackville-Baggins clan telling a shopkeeper that Bilbo was keeping it as a pet of all things, leading to the very true rumor that a certain cat daemon had attacked a certain skunk daemon and caused him to spray all over the store. 

The stress of it all finally gets to Bilbo and Madge on the day when he comes out of his house to have a smoke only to find the eagle sitting on _their_ bench. “Oh no you don’t,” Bilbo grouses, swinging his pipe at the animal as Madge bats at it from the ground. “Go away.” 

Finally the eagle relents, jumping up from the bench and into the air, making a graceful arch that narrowly misses Bilbo’s head. 

Bilbo spins, pipe still in hand and poised as a weapon, and sees what must be a wizard standing on the path, the eagle perched on his shoulder. “Oh-” Bilbo stammers. Madge has abandoned him and wedged herself between the bench and the bush, tail down. “I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean- is that your bird?” 

“Bird?” The wizard asks, raising one eyebrow. “She is an eagle, and Anar is no mere bird.” 

“Of course, my apologies. Hello Anar, you are a most handsome daemon and quite rare to us. Most Hobbit have mammals in fact,” Bilbo says, feeling terribly awkward and entirely forgetting his manners. “Well, I- good morning.” 

“What do you mean by that?” the eagle asks from her wizard perch in a high clear voice, startling Bilbo to jump. It startles him to hear her speak after seeing her for a week and believing that she had been a normal bird. Anar leans forward. “Do you mean to wish us a good morning or do you mean that it is a good morning whether we want it or not?” 

“Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning,” the wizard chimes in, smirking from under his tall and pointed hat.

“Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?” the eagle finishes, leaning down farther to peer at Bilbo with a critical eye. 

Bilbo blinks, caught off guard. “All of them at once I suppose.” Madge jumps up into his arms, but keeps quiet, wide eyes fixed on the wizard and his strange but beautiful daemon. 

“You’ve been watching us,” she says, flicking her tail with unease and Bilbo sets a comforting hand on her. “Why?” 

Later, Bilbo would come to blame her and her Took tendencies for encouraging Gandalf in the first place. One should never question a Wizard.


	2. House Call

The first of the dwarves arrive just as Bilbo and Madge are sitting down to dinner. 

“I bet it’s that blasted Wizard and his strange daemon again. I say it’s not natural for a daemon to be able to be that far from her pair, even if he is a wizard,” Madge grouses at his heels as Bilbo opens the door. It’s not Gandalf. 

“Dwalin, at your service.” The dwarf bows his head tattooed head. He cuts an imposing figure, filling Bilbo's doorway the way he does, but that isn't what baffles Bilbo about him the most. 

For a moment that probably stretches for far too long Bilbo is confused on several fronts, the most pressing being a concern for the dwarf's daemon. Why would he not display his daemon before coming to another person’s door? Surely that in common courtesy no matter where one should travel. But then Bilbo remembers what he had once read; dwarves do not have daemons. He’s so put off balance by the sudden revelation that Bilbo can do nothing but stare until Madge nips at his foot. 

“Oh! I'm sorry- Bilbo Baggins at yours,” he replies at length, managing an awkward bow as well and feeling terribly guilty for staring. Just because dwarves share a trait with evil and foul things does not mean he can treat a guest like one. But Bilbo finds that he cannot even fathom it. Orcs, goblins, animals...and dwarves. No doubt anyone without a daemon must feel terribly self conscious all the time. 

If Dwalin is feeling self conscious, Bilbo certainly can’t tell. The dwarf pushes inside, looking around without much interest and calling for food. Bilbo sits in the corner with Madge curled up in his lap while Dwalin eats his dinner with voracity.

“I wanted that fish, and why does he have to have his weapons at the table,” Madge mutters, sounding as mutinous and uncomfortable as Bilbo feels.

Bilbo eyes the two axes that are indeed sitting on the table. “I don’t know-” The doorbell rings again, cutting him off. 

Madge looks up at Bilbo, eyes wide. “You don’t think.” 

“That’ll be the door,” the dwarf says, wiping at his face with what seems to be the end of his shirt. Then he sits up straight, pointing to Madge who has moved to Bilbo’s shoulder. “And may I say mister hobbit, that is a _fine_ cat you have there.” 

An uncomfortable silence descends upon the room.

“Uh, thank you,” Bilbo says awkwardly, feeling nervous and glad to already be halfway across the room. “She’s uh, you can speak to her directly if you-” The bell rings again. “Excuse me.” 

He opens it to reveal another, thankfully less terrifying looking dwarf with a long beard and a polished silver shield strapped to his back. “Balin, at you service.” He bows low. Even though he was expecting it, the lack of a deamon disturbs Bilbo once again.

Bilbo frowns, uncomfortable. He has trouble even meeting Balin's eyes and he finds he doesn't know what to say. Madge flicks her tail in irritation. “Good evening,” she says, nearly hissing the phrase in her distress. 

Balin leans away slightly. “Ah- yes. Yes it is.” He enters the house on the opposite side from her. “Although I think it might rain later,” he says to Bilbo instead of Madge, who lets out an outraged gasp. 

Balin and Dwalin, who are apparently brothers, spot each other then and leave Bilbo and Madge standing in the entryway. “Well I never,” Madge hisses. “Can you believe the nerve?” 

“No,” Bilbo says, following them into the pantry. “I cannot.” 

The two dwarves completely ignore both of them after that, except to get instructions from Bilbo as to the proper place to leave their weapons, and then to express their displeasure at the thought of him not having a proper _enough_ place. “What is the world coming to?” Balin asks his brother after they had deposited their weapons in the boot cupboard. Dwalin had just grunted, throwing some of Bilbo’s best cheese over his shoulder. 

It lands on the floor with a splat, Madge landing next to it in a huff. “Bilbo,” she says in a dangerous tone. 

Bilbo squats to stroke her head, knowing that it probably won't do much to calm her like it usually does. “I know.” 

But the doorbell rings again, this time to reveal two more dwarves, who both hand him more weapons and demand that they be properly cared for. Bilbo has to scramble to maintain his hold on them, Madge threatening to trip him with all her agitated weaving about his feet. The dwarves, who call themselves Fili and Kili, follow him to the cupboard and watch him put the weapons in. 

“There, is that to your satisfaction?” Bilbo asks, irritated. 

The dark one smiles at him, though it seems strained. “Yes, er, thank you.” The blond one elbows him in the stomach not at all subtly. “Oh and may I say that your daemon is very nice," he says in a rush. 

“She’s a lovely cat,” the blond one adds earnestly, nodding. 

Madge growls from the floor. “She is down here.” Bilbo shushes her. 

The Dwarves begin to look as uncomfortable as Bilbo feels and start inching away towards the other dwarves. “Right, uh-” The doorbell rings again, and they make their escape. 

"No. No more." Madge takes off running to the door, making Bilbo run after her to avoid the separation pain that will strike them if they get too far apart. Irritated and quite finished with having his daemon insulted he throws open the door, letting in a literal avalanche of dwarves that Madge is forced to leap away from with a yowl. Bilbo scoops her up, heart pounding, and spots Gandalf at the back. 

The wizard steps inside with a smile, avoiding the collision. Bilbo notices that the eagle is nowhere to be seen. “Master Baggins and Miss Madge, how are you this evening?”

Madge is squirming in his arms, furious. “I was almost _crushed_ Gandalf!” 

Gandalf raises his eyebrows. “Indeed?” 

Bilbo opens his mouth to respond but then he is being rushed by eight dwarves at once, each with their own name, ‘at your service’ and weapon or tool that needs to be stored. He does not get a moment to sit down or stand still for over an hour what with the dinners and drinks and other arrangements that need preparing. It also does not help that every last dwarf seeks him out at some point during the evening to tell him how nice or pretty or even ‘majestic’ Madge is without saying word one to her themselves. They do not even respond to her when she speaks to them directly. It’s all very frustrating and leaves them both seething. You do not ignore a Hobbit’s daemon, it is simply not done in polite company. 

A few of them at least seem to be making the effort to be polite or at least to acknowledge him, but most seem to content to ignore the both of them, hobbit and cat. 

“This. Is ridiculous,” Madge says from her relatively safe perch on the mantelpiece, watching the dwarves sing bawdy songs and throw his best dishes all over the house. 

“I know.” Bilbo runs a hand through his hair. “But at least I think the worst is over.” 

Then the king arrives. 

Gandalf makes a grand sweep of his hand. “Bilbo and Madge, may I present the leader of this company, Thorin Oakenshield.” 

Bilbo comes to stand before him, trying and failing not to be impressed. Thorin has an overwhelming presence even without a daemon. The feeling of danger that comes from seeing him stand alone, deamonless, inspires an equally overwhelming feeling in Bilbo. Even Madge is quiet. Bilbo look at him, and thinks that he understands why someone would willingly follow him. However, the feeling lasts only until the king opens his mouth. 

“So,” the King says, looking him over in turn. He does not seem as impressed. “This is the Hobbit...and his cat.” 

Bilbo presses his lips together, keeping silent through sheer will. Madge does not show the same restraint. “His cat has a name, as does he come to think of it.” 

Thorin’s eyebrows shoot up and he laughs, but it’s a cold sound. “Well Miss cat-”

“Madge.”

“- have you done much fighting?" He looks over his shoulder and many of the other dwarves laugh. "What is your weapon of choice? Axe of sword?” 

“Neither. What about you?” She flicks her tail the way she only does when she is extremely annoyed. “No special weapons for us to put away?” Madge asks, probably seeking to show grace and diffuse the tension. They are the hosts after all. Unfortunately it seems to have the opposite effect. Half of the dwarves gasp while the other half fall completely silent. Even Gandalf sends her a disapproving look. 

Thorin himself doesn’t say anything for a few long and tense seconds, then his eyes flicker back up to Bilbo’s. “Is that how you let your daemon behave?” 

Bilbo squares his shoulders. “I don’t _let_ her do any-”

Thorin scoffs and physically pushes past him into the next room, the other dwarves following in his wake. Bilbo gapes after him. “Gandalf what-” 

Gandalf hold up his hands. “Bilbo, Madge, I think that there are some cultural misunderstandings at play here.” 

“We don’t care,” Madge says, sliding down from his shoulder and into Bilbo’s arms, curling into a defensive ball. “We hate him. Why are they here?” 

Gandalf’s eyes glitter again and Bilbo gets a sinking feeling. “Let’s find out shall we?”

The next few hours are filled with talk Bilbo barely understands about lost kingdoms, factions of Dwarves, and most unfortunately, a dragon. Gandalf makes some grand claims about Bilbo being a burglar and Bilbo passes out when they try to get him to sign the contract. The next morning Bilbo wakes up from dreams of dwarves and dragons to a quiet house but also to an irate daemon pawing at his head, a map curled next to them. Bilbo frowns, thinking that she must have dragged it there from the other room. “Get up.” 

He tries and fails to push her away from his face. “Madge-” 

“Bilbo.” She moves to sit on his chest, her paws pressing close to his throat and her big eyes peering down into his. “We are going. We're going to show that dwarf.” 

Bilbo blinks. Then he groans. “Oh, Madge come-”

“We’re going.”


	3. The Road

“See?” Madge whispers in his ear, her whiskers tickling. “This isn’t so bad.”

“You are not the one sitting on a pony. You’re sitting on me. This is like any other day for you,” Bilbo grumbles, eying the beast below him. It had not been his idea to ride a pony. He had always had a problem with certain animals, especially the ones that make him sneeze. 

However he has to admit, to himself if not to his daemon, that road is fine and the day very nice. For now. He has no confidence about the conditions anywhere outside of the Shire.

Bilbo glances around him nervously, still uncomfortable around so many daemonless figures. It sends a shiver up his spine every time he notices again, not that he could forget. It makes him uneasy. 

Especially considering that one member of their company does not have to be so strange and off putting.

“Gandalf?” Bilbo calls out, letting his curiosity win out over his propriety. They are five hours out of the Shire and Bilbo has made most of the ride in near silence. If Bilbo didn’t know any better he would think that they have mortally offended nearly every dwarf in the company, which is ridiculous seeing as neither he nor Madge have done anything wrong. It’s fine of course, seeing as the dwarves make enough noise for three traveling parties. Bilbo certainly doesn’t need to talk to them. 

Gandalf glances over at him with a questioning look and Bilbo ducks his head. “Well, I was just wondering-”

“Where is your daemon? She was with you before,” Madge pipes up from her position curled around his neck. Bilbo flicks at her whiskers but she ignores him, eager to learn. Gandalf laughs.

“Anar is far to the east at the moment, gathering information for us.” 

One of the dwarves, the little one with the knitted sweater and who had clearly been listening, turns at that. “Do you mean information for the company Mister Gandalf?”

“No Ori I mean for Anar and myself. I have many concerns in this world apart from this company, and luckily I can be in two places at once.” He glances over at Bilbo and winks. “So to speak.” 

“Oh,” Ori responds, but he looks over at another dwarf with fantastical star-shaped hair who Bilbo believes to be his brother. 

Bilbo hasn’t spoken to many of the dwarves at all, not even the friendly one named Bofur who had given him a piece of his tunic for a handkerchief, still more than a bit off put by their daemon-less state. How can he be expected to trust someone who has their entire soul on the inside? It makes him question if they even have them. 

The ostentatious dwarf leans over to him to whisper. “He means he is one with his daemon Ori, I told you yesterday.” 

“I know that Nori,” Ori responds defensively, still whispering but doing so very loudly. “I just would have thought that they were more like...I don’t know, animals? They talk about them like they’re equals.” 

Madge growls. “We are,” she says, clearly enough for everyone to hear, and Ori whips back around to face front, which makes Gandalf chuckle. The other dwarf stays turned around and shoots an apologetic look Bilbo’s way. 

“It’s not Ori’s fault,” he says, glancing down at Madge and then back up again. “He just doesn’t know any better. He is young, and he hasn’t spent a lot of time around daemon holders. Most of us haven’t.” 

Bilbo wonders at the phrase but does his best to smile in spite of his poor mood. “It’s quite alright. I believe that I have given my share of offense as well these past few days.” Not that he understand how, but it seems the polite thing to say.

Nori’s elaborate eyebrows shoot up. “Well I should say so.” He turns back around, leaving Bilbo gaping at his back. 

“Wha- Gandalf?” But the wizard is too busy laughing at him to be of any help. 

Irritated, Bilbo slows his pony down, shifting to ride at the back of the company with the more boisterous dwarves who will likely leave them be. They seem the merrier sort, and quite absorbed with each other. Of course he is wrong about that too.

“Mister Boggins,” one of the young princes says, grinning and no doubt fully aware of his error. “I see you’ve decided to join us.” 

“Hello, Fili.” Bilbo guesses, knowing that he must be one or the other. If only the dwarves didn’t have such irrationally similar names. Everything they do is strange and off putting. Apparently he gets it right because the dwarf nods and goes back to talking to his brother. 

“Alright there Bilbo?” Bofur calls out, riding close, the huge mattock he carries strapped to his back. The wrongness of the sight of a person without a daemon hit him again and Bilbo has to stop himself from leaning away, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. 

“Yes of course,” Bilbo says with what he hopes is a convincing smile. “Thank you by the way, for the handkerchief,” Bilbo adds, to be polite. It’s not like he’ll actually _use_ the thing, but Bofur doesn’t need to know that. 

Bofur tips his ridiculous hat and then tilts his head to wink at Madge, catching Bilbo off guard. “I hope you two are enjoying the day as much as I am,” he says, and it is not lost on Bilbo that this is one of the few times one of the dwarves had acknowledged her. 

“We are,” Madge says, sending a curious look him way. 

“That’s good. You seem to be handling the trip well, all things considered.” 

“All things considered?” Madge sits up straighter. “We are not soft footed.” 

Bofur laughs and they continue talking for the next hour, Bofur telling entertaining stories and listening to the ones Bilbo tells. He doesn’t seem nearly as offended as the others, though Bilbo sees his brother send him some disparaging looks along the way. The open friendliness he offers when Bilbo had been so appallingly rude and judgmental, even if it was just in his own head, sends a wave of guilt through Bilbo, though he can’t entirely get comfortable around him even still. 

They pass through a forest and into a clearing that Thorin deems suitable for camp. It is different from the Shire in some ways, but not altogether unpleasant. Bilbo slides down off of his pony gratefully, already feeling the pain from the long ride, and busies himself with unpacking, not noticing the King’s approach until Madge alerts him to it. 

“Fearless leader on the move,” she says sourly, still clearly annoyed with him. Bilbo turns to find Thorin is indeed upon him, not looking at all like the burdens of travel were affecting him the way they were Bilbo. 

“Oh, uh, hello.” 

Thorin narrows his eyes, looking very put out. “Master Baggins. It has come to my attention that I have neglected to compliment your daemon.” He eyes flicker over to Madge briefly. “She is very nice.” Then he walks away, leaving a very confused and flustered pair behind. 

Gandalf sees this and comes over. “Bilbo Baggins and Miss Madge you two are going to send yourselves into a fit if you both stay so tense all the time, whatever is the matter?” 

“It’s these dwarves Gandalf, they’re insufferable!” Madge cries from the ground, pacing back and forth. “Every single one of them has made some backhanded comment about me, but hardly one has ordained to speak to me themselves! Even the king!” 

“Ah. I see.” Gandalf strokes his beard, eyes on the sky. “The relationship between dwarves and other races of middle earth has always been strained.”

“I wonder why,” Madge says, glancing up at Bilbo. “There’s no need for them to behave this way.” 

“Complimenting a prized or otherwise valuable possession, which is no doubt how they understand you, is a very dwarvish concept.” Gandalf chuckles. “They are not trying to offer you insult.” 

“And yet they are succeeding!” 

“Now Madge.” Gandalf shakes his head. “What you fail to understand is the difference between hobbits and dwarves.” 

“It seems perfectly clear to me,” Bilbo grouses, feeling the need to come to the defense of his daemon. “I have a daemon, they do not. At least I’m trying to get past the difference.”

“Are you?” Gandalf’s eyes glitter. “In part yes, you are right, but that is not exactly the case. They are different from you, it is true, but not so much so. The dwarves are a prideful people and you have been terribly remiss in acknowledging a very important part of them.” 

“What part?” Bilbo puts his hands on his hips, racking his brain for anything of the sort and coming up empty. “I don't know what you are even talking about, and just how were we supposed to know that in any case?”

Gandalf raises one eyebrow. “Perhaps, Master and Miss, you two might consider _asking_ them.”


	4. Some Answers

Gandalf’s chastisement stings both Bilbo and Madge sorely, and they spend most of the remainder of the day sulking about at the edges of camp, Bilbo stroking her compulsively and complaining to each other. They watch the dwarves move about the makeshift camp with narrowed eyes. 

“I thought that Gandalf was on _our_ side,” Madge says, pawing a weed to pieces. 

“He’s on his own side. He’s just doing what he thinks is best,” Bilbo answers, though he’s feeling distinctly uncharitable towards him. “Wizards always do.” 

She snorts. “He is like elves, saying both no and yes to our questions.” 

“Oh I’d wager he’s worse than an elf,” Bilbo says, squinting towards the rest of camp to where Gandalf is conferring with Thorin over the map. The others all move around in small groups, preparing food, keeping watch, or just messing about. Bilbo sniffs, looking away. 

Madge jumps to his lap. “Ha. Probably.” 

“Thorin is just as bad too,” Bilbo says, kicking at the same weed, uprooting it. 

She sticks up her nose. “Thorin is worse. ‘ _She’s very nice_ ’ he didn’t even try to sound sincere. Why bother saying it at all?” 

“Maybe he had to,” Bilbo murmurs, looking back towards camp again. “I mean, they all did at one point or another.” 

Madge flattens herself against his thighs, tail twitching erratically. “So? Gandalf said it was a dwarf thing to do.”

“Yes and Gandalf also said that we had been remiss in acknowledging an important part of them, but they were acknowledging you.” 

“They were treating me like a thing.” 

“Yes.” Bilbo scowls. “But maybe they were making a point of it.” 

Madge snorts. “Passive aggressive dwarves. Wonderful.” 

Their mood had not improved much by the time Kili comes to find him for dinner. 

“Bilbo who are you- Oh. I-” He stops, glancing around the small area Bilbo had claimed. “Are you talking to it? Er- her?” 

Bilbo fights the urge to run his hands through his own hair and pull it out by the roots. “Yes,” he finally manages in a semi-civil tone.

Kili frowns, two warring emotions playing on his face. Curiosity wins out. “But I thought…aren’t you the same? Are you talking to yourself?” 

Bilbo frowns and blinks up at him for several seconds, long enough for Kili to hold up his hands and start to inch away. “I’m sorry-”

“No it’s alright,” Bilbo says, some of his foul mood starting to dissipate. He thinks on Gandalf’s words and wonders. “I can’t expect you to know that much about hobbit’s and daemons, since you don’t have one yourself,” he says, fishing for information. 

Kili takes the bait, a look of surprise taking over his face. “Don’t have...but we- do you not know?” 

“No,” Bilbo says honestly, stroking a gentle hand through Madge’s fur. “I really don’t.” 

Kili smiles, one of the few genuine smiles that had been directed at Bilbo for the duration of the trip. “Well maybe we should fix that,” he says, heading off determinedly for camp, the confused pair following behind. 

Dinner that night is a curious affair, Bilbo and Madge find themselves sandwiched between Kili and Fili who, much to their annoyance, keep whispering over them in Kuzudul. Bilbo, despite his resolve to be the open minded one, finds himself on the brink of another fit when Fili finally unleashes their plan. 

“Oh Balin?” he calls as the older dwarf moves to set his bowl aside. “Will you give us a tale tonight?” 

Balin strokes his beard. “Well I don’t see why not. What about the tale of-”

“The tale of the first creation.” Kili bursts out, prompting Madge to roll her eyes at his subtly. “It’s been too long, and I don’t think Bilbo here, or uh, his daemon, have ever heard it.” He elbows Bilbo in the ribs. 

“Um, no. We have not,” Bilbo says, glancing over at Gandalf, who is trying and failing to disguise his laughter. The other dwarves are beginning to take notice as well. 

“Oh.” Balin sits back, looking rather pleased. He glances over at Thorin before looking back to Bilbo with a smile. “But you know of the Gathol?” At Bilbo’s blank look, Blain continues. “Our versions of daemons, so to speak.” 

Eleven more pairs of eyes lock onto Bilbo and Madge, and they both shift uncomfortably at the same time. “No,” Bilbo is forced to admit, causing a rash of muttering to erupt. Even Thorin looks surprised. 

“Truly burglar?” Thorin asks, eyes flashing in the firelight. “You did not know?” 

Bilbo squares his shoulders. “No, but I am sorry if we gave any offense in any case,” he says, and Thorin’s eyes flicker down to Madge. 

“But we don’t know what we did,” Madge says from his lap. 

Thorin’s eyebrows climb up and Balin shifts, looking uncharastically uncomfortable. “You failed to show the proper care and respect to the Gathol, the soul tools. You still have not.” 

Ori pokes his head up. “Not to mention you-” But Dori shushes him. 

Bilbo spares them a glance before looking back to Thorin. “Again we apologize, and we would like the rectify the mistakes. It might be best if I did hear this tale so that I can begin to learn.” Bilbo sees that Bofur nods and so does Thorin, turning away and gesturing to Balin, who has set himself in the center of their semi circle. Many of the other dwarves are shifting around as well, moving closer and paying attention. 

Released from Thorin’s intense gaze, Bilbo lets out a breath and glances over to where Gandalf had ensconced himself against a large rock, a little separate from the company. Gandalf tilts his head and winks at him prompting Bilbo to rolls his eyes before turning his attention back to Balin, who holds up his hand. Everyone stops speaking at once. 

“In days long past, before the sun and moon shone in the sky, before the first or second children of Iluvatar walked the land- Mahal created the first Dwarves under the mountain in secret. For so dearly did he love to create and to teach, he could not bear to wait for the coming of the elves. He made us in secret, poured his very love and life into us, and so we came into existence before any others, complete in and of ourselves, and separate.” 

Bilbo nods, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees, Madge bracketed between them.

“But Iluvatar, the all father, who knows all and sees all, came down to Mahal. He was not pleased that Mahal had sought to hide his work from him, and due to the fact that the dwarves were not a part of his original design, and were indeed quite set apart by the lack of the daemons, the soul pairs that he had envisioned, nearly commanded them destroyed. This was not done out of malice, for He has no evil within him. Iluvatar at first feared for us and our place within the world for Mahal had created us using the daemon-less Valar as a template, not knowing of the daemons and their function.” 

Several of the dwarves had sat forward by this point, including Fili and Kili, who Bilbo could feel on either side, eager and proud. Balin smiles at them briefly before continuing. 

“Iluvatar, though sadden, felt at first that the first dwarves must be destroyed to spare them from a daemon-less existence. However Iluvatar, who is the root of all goodness and the very creator of Mahal, quickly realized that Mahal, though unaware of the need, had in his infinite wisdom built in the first dwarves the ability to address this need on their own. He had given them the skills and intuition required to know their own souls and to create their own reflections, as well as the fortitude to live without them for a time, for Mahal valued the abilities to create and to endure above all other things.” 

Balin reaches behind him and pulls the shining silver shield he carries in front of himself, displaying it. Madge whispers. “That must be-” 

Bilbo shushes her, earning an amused look from Kili. Around the fire, Bilbo sees several of the dwarves doing the same, some pulling weapons, others working tools. He even spots Nori drawing his hand over a carved staff. 

“Iluvatar saw that the dwarves would be able to perceive the truth of their souls themselves, and take objects fashioned from the earth they so loved as their Gathol, the fortresses of their souls. There was no need to destroy them, but Iluvatar still deemed that they would sleep until the firstborn came, to place them as equals.” At this, Bilbo notices with amusement some eye rolling and spitting from certain members of the company, Thorin included. 

“The first dwarves slept, and when they awoke that found that would not be limited by distance in any way from their Gathol, and they would not feel damage inflicted upon them the way the pain of a daemon is felt, and they would chose for themselves the shape and function of their soul, not have it chosen for them. This is one of the great strengths of our people,” Balin says, looking up from his shield to the rest of the company, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “Dwarves are made to endure. We make ourselves complete, thanks to the blessings of Mahal.” 

Thorin beat his fist to his chest suddenly, startling Bilbo. “To Mahal.” 

“To Mahal!” The company repeats, and all raise their fists to the sky.


	5. More Questions

“Oh Bilbo!” 

Bilbo turns around to see both Fili and Kili coming up from behind him, with what Bilbo can now recognize as their Gathol strapped to their backs. He wonders how he didn’t see it before with the near obsessive way they take care of them. Kili has his bow, which he proudly informed Bilbo he made himself, and Fili his sword, which he says had belonged to his father. It had fascinated Bilbo to learn that Gathol could be passed down at all, for surely they must be specific to the user? But Fili had merely shrugged when he’d asked and said, “It’s a personal choice.” 

The princes close in and Madge sends him a look from where she’s perched on his discarded pack. Trouble. 

“We were just looking for you.” Fili slings an arm around his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell us about your daemon Mr. Baggins?” 

Bilbo smiles, a little strained. “Well first of all you can ask her yourself, she’s not just some animal.” 

Kili tilts his head. “Is that insulting? To ignore them?” 

Bilbo looks up for a moment for patience, reminding himself once again of cultural differences. “Yes, in fact it is.” 

Fili frowns, letting him go and looking genuinely sorry. “We did not know.” He bows his head. “I’m sorry for insulting your cat, Mister Baggins.” 

“You’re doing it right now!” Bilbo says, incredulous. A laugh rings out from behind him, and Bilbo glances back, annoyed, to see Bofur approaching them, mattock strapped to his back as always. 

“Lads, have some sense before you send poor Mister Baggins into a state,” he says, dropping a comforting hand on his shoulder. “An’ you should know that they mean no harm by it. They grew up in the Blue Mountains without much contact with outsiders, they won’t know a lot about daemons.” 

Bilbo smiles, and reaches back to rub his head, feeling guilty again. “Of course, I don’t mean to snap at you boys. It’s just that it can be a sensitive subject.” 

They smile back, brighter than suns. “That’s alright,” Fili says. “We were quite offended ourselves when you didn’t seem to take proper care of our Gathol at your house or say anything about them. But you’ve since fixed that.” Kili nods vigorously. 

“Well if you can forgive me then I’m sure we can forgive you.” 

“Maybe,” Madge snipes, too low for them to hear, but not too low for Bofur, who laughs. 

“Alright,” Bofur says, still smiling. “Bombur says it’s lunchtime, that’s why I came over.” 

Fili and Kili nearly run them down, leaving Bilbo, Madge, and Bofur behind. Bilbo rolls his eyes. “They’re worse than tweens.” 

“I think they are tweens,” Madge says, jumping up to Bilbo’s waiting arms. 

Bofur laughs again, and they start walking over. “No Miss Madge, they are adults, but that doesn’t stop them from behaving as dwarflings sometimes, or offering great offense.” 

Madge settles herself into Bilbo’s arms. “I see. Well I’m harder to offend than that,” she says, and Bilbo rolls his eyes at the lie. “You can call us just Bilbo and Madge, by the way.” 

“Thank you, I will,” Bofur says, collecting his bowl. “Are you eating today Madge?” 

Madge blinks, surprised. “No, but thank you.” 

Bilbo collects his own bowl and settles down next to Bofur, who stays standing for a little while longer in order to set his weapon nicely on the ground. Bilbo eyes the mattock and decides that it’s a fairly safe bet. “Is that your Gathol Bofur?” 

Bofur smiles, sitting himself down with a sigh. “Yes it is.” 

“It’s very nice,” Bilbo says, trying to be appropriately enthusiastic. He doesn’t really know what makes a mattock nice or not. “I don’t know that much about them, but it looks very well made.” 

“Thank ye’.” Bofur sets his bowl down to pick it up again, hefting its weight without any effort. “I made it when I was just a young one, only forty five.” 

Bilbo nods, wondering just how old Bofur is. He moves on in favor of other topics. “Does it have a name?”

“No.” 

Bilbo nods, wondering if that had been a stupid question. Maybe they don’t have names like daemons do. “I hear that they are very, uh, versatile tools. That seems very much like you.” 

“Simple but useful.” Bofur winks. “That could be the family motto.” 

Bilbo laughs and Bofur sets his Gathol back down in favor of his food. Madge wedges herself between them and Bilbo notices that Bofur takes care not to touch her. Bilbo smiles. “You seem to know a great deal more about daemons than the others.” 

“Oh aye,” Bofur says, while eating, which Bilbo tries to ignore. “I spend more time than the others around daemon holders, so I’ve rather got used to their ways.” 

“Nori said something similar at the start of the journey, but he said that Ori hadn’t.” 

Bofur nods. “Nori travels a lot, as do I. The ones that stay close to the mountains tend to know less about other races than they ones that get around.” 

“That makes sense,” Bilbo says, eyeing the rest of the company. “Which are the ones that travel? Or, just the ones that know about daemons.” 

Bofur sets his bowl down and wipes his mouth with his sleeve, considering. “Me and Bifur because we travel to make and sell our wares, but not Bombur because he has a family. Nori, but not either of his brothers though because they both have a trade in the Blue Mountains. Oin and Gloin don’t get out much either. Balin knows about it because he’s a scholar, but not Dwalin so much. Not the princes, obviously,” he says, grinning. “And not really Thorin either I suppose.” 

“Shouldn’t he though? If he’s going to be a king?” Madge asks, and Bilbo glances over at Thorin who is conferring with Balin over a map pinned under some stones. 

“He already is a king, just one without a castle.” Bofur shrugs. “I suppose that’s what he has his advisors for.” Madge huffs and even Bilbo can’t avoid an eye roll. 

He eats his lunch, much more slowly and in a more dignified manner than Bofur did, and watches Thorin covertly until Balin leaves him. Though he had made his peace with many of the other dwarves by making the effort to compliment and acknowledge their respective Gathol in the past few days after hearing the story, he hadn’t yet been able to figure out what Thorin’s was yet. He knows that he must do something however, and Madge had grudgingly agreed. He and Madge must be on good terms, or at least polite terms, with all members of the company. So when Balin takes his leave, Bilbo makes his approach, Madge hot on his heels. 

“Uh, your- Thorin?” The king looks up, gaze piercing and expression barely tolerant as it always is when Bilbo and Madge are near. Bilbo steels himself, aware that he is on his own. He and Madge had agreed that it was best she keep a low profile for this conversation. 

“Yes Master Hobbit what can I do for you?” Thorin answers, sounding bored. 

Bilbo tries a smile. “I won’t keep you, I’m sure you’re very busy.” Thorin inclines his head. “I just wanted to express how sorry I am for how I behaved when you...visited my home. I had no idea at the time the kind of insult I was giving, though I realize that is no excuse. And I would be, uh, I would be honored to be at your service from this moment forward,” Bilbo says, reminding himself for the thousandth time that his mother always told him and Madge to be the bigger pair. 

Thorin regards him in silence for several seconds before nodding, though he looks no more friendly for it. “Apology accepted.” 

Bilbo lets himself relax slightly. “I must say, I had never heard the tale Balin told the other night before, and I am most sorry because of it. I have never before heard of such a thing,” he says, trying to be discreet about looking Thorin over for a special tool. It won’t necessarily be large. Ori, he had discovered, had a set of academic tools for his Gathol that he had invented himself which were quite small. 

Thorin glances away. “We keep our knowledge and our history private, as we do many other things.” He looks back, gazing deep into Bilbo’s eyes. “You would be wise not to spread what you heard around. I only allowed Balin to tell you because you travel with us.” 

“I will be sure to keep it to myself, though I must say it seems a shame to keep such an impressive and honorable history to yourselves,” Bilbo says, hoping not to give offense. It can be difficult to predict what will set Thorin off. 

Thorin quirks his lips. “It is not as hidden as our language and some select parts of our culture but it is tradition, Master Baggins.” 

“Oh, please call me Bilbo,” he says, thinking he might as well allow everyone in camp. 

Thorin snorts, gaze flickering down to Madge. “Your daemon is quieter today I notice.” 

Bilbo hesitates, Madge doesn’t. “We are trying to be more culturally sensitive,” she says, walking around Bilbo’s feet to stand in front, ignoring Bilbo’s extended hands. “Some of your subjects seem quite disturbed by me.” 

“Do they.” Thorin looks down on her, visibly amused. “Well you can rest assured that I am not. As for the sensitivity in general, I think that’s a very good idea for you two. You certainly need the practice.” Madge’s tail twitches. Bilbo bites his lip. 

_Hang it all._

“Thorin, which of your fine tools is your Gathol? I had wanted to-”

“It is considered very rude to ask, Master Baggins,” Thorin says, a dark expression twisting his features. “Not that I expect you to understand.” 

Bilbo takes an involuntary step back. Madge speaks up. “He only meant-” 

“I don’t care what he meant.” Thorin snaps, and with that he turns his back to Bilbo and Madge and walks away.


	6. Making Friends

The road only gets harder as they continue on, verging off of well used and familiar trails to much less beaten paths. Like most hobbits and their daemons, Bilbo and Madge had considered going to Bree once in their rebellious tweens quite the walking holiday, but this is another beast altogether. The two of them try to keep their complaining to a minimum, and failing that, between themselves only. It would not do for the dwarves to hear them and think they are even more out of place than they clearly already are. 

“It’s soaking wet in here too,” Madge says under her breath, tucked into Bilbo’s shirt. It had been raining all day with no sign of stopping. “I don’t think there is a dry spot on me at this point. Not one.” 

“Hush,” Bilbo murmurs under his breath when he catches Dori staring openly, a look of suspicion and maybe even a bit of fear on his face. He smiles at the dwarf briefly, trying to be less off-putting to him. It had become very clear in the past few days that several of the dwarves are just as uncomfortable with Bilbo having a daemon as Bilbo was with the dwarves not having them. The younger and well traveled ones seem fairly comfortable with it, but the ones too set in their ways. 

When Bilbo mentioned it to Bofur a few days ago the dwarf had looked thoroughly amused. “Well of course they’re wary. Imagine you lived your whole life in one place with your people and then suddenly you go outside and there’s a whole world of talking animals out there!” 

Madge had snorted. “But surely they _knew_. How could they not? Every other race in the world that’s any good has one of us.” 

Bofur had laughed and flicked her nose with the reed he had been playing with. “Knowing is one thing, Miss Madge, but I think you’ll find that seeing is quite another.”

It seems to be true, at least for many of the company. Dori just averts his gaze, turning back to continue his conversation with Gandalf, and Bilbo sighs. They have so far to go. When the conversation turns to talk of wizards, Bilbo speaks up. 

“There are other wizards?” 

Gandalf glances over at him. “Yes of course. Four others. Our leading pair is Saruman and his daemon Menelmacar.” 

“Is she an eagle too? Or something else?” Madge asks, her voice slightly muffled coming from inside Bilbo’s shirt. Dori flinches away again by this time they’re too interested to pay him any mind.

“No, she is a raven, and a sharper mind you will never find in this world.” 

“But do all the wizards have bird daemons?” Madge asks, poking her head out of the top of Bilbo’s shirt in spite of the rain, curiosity winning over comfort once again. 

Gandalf frowns, stroking his beard. “Perhaps. In fact I believe so. I’ve quite forgotten the specifics of two of the others, the two blue wizards that is, but Radagast the Brown’s soul also takes a bird’s shape.” 

“That must be very convenient, especially since they can go so far from you,” Bilbo remarks, thinking about the opportunities. Why, if Madge had settled into a bird and could go that far without pain they could easily find the best walking trails or simply plan new ones, they could keep track of the farms with half the effort, and they would likely know all the news worth knowing before anyone else. They would have been the envy of the whole Shire!

“Yes. One would almost think it had been designed to be that way,” Gandalf says, sending Bilbo a side-eyed glance. 

Confused and a bit suspicious, as Gandalf’s cryptic comments sometimes leave him, Bilbo decides to leave the wizard be for while, turning his attention to other things. The scenery is quite pretty, though not as good as it is in the Shire. A bright glint of light catches his eye and he turns slightly to see that it was the sun reflected off of Balin’s silver shield, strapped sideways to his back for riding. Bilbo stares, trying to work out what any one of the many runes might mean, and Balin catches him looking. 

Being the friendly sort, Balin smiles at him. “Alright there laddie?” 

“Oh, yes,” Bilbo says, doing his best to sound like a normal, well mannered hobbit. “I was just admiring your shield. It is a work of art.” This is certainly true, in the light of day the shield is a gleaming beacon decorated with what must be important symbols to dwarves. Even without understanding what they mean Bilbo cannot help but be impressed by the artistry of it. 

Balin dips his head, trying and failing to look humble. The pride shows too clearly on his face. “Much obliged. I am surprised you appreciate this sort of work.” 

“Oh no I do! Will you tell me about it?” Bilbo presses on, no longer wanting to ride in silence and sensing the opportunity to have one more dwarf in the company who will speak to him willingly. “I have never seen its like in the Shire.” 

Balin nods, putting Bilbo’s fears about giving offense to rest. After his failed conversation with Thorin he finds himself paranoid. “And you will not anywhere else. This is the Defender, my Gathol and the Gathol of my father Fundin before me. It has been successfully used to defend the primary line of Durin for eight generations. It came to my side of the family by my great grandfather Borin, younger brother to Dain I.” 

Many questions occur to Bilbo, but he settles on the most obvious. 

“Are you-” Bilbo blinks. “You are related to Thorin then?” 

Balin laughs. “Yes. Dain I was Thorin’s great grandfather. We are second cousins, as are Oin and Gloin.” Bilbo nods, wondering about the other members of the company. 

“I see.” Bilbo laughs too, leaning forward. “Sounds about as complicated as a Took family reunion.” 

Balin chuckles. “Your family?”

“On my mother’s side, yes.” 

“Is it a large family then to be so complicated?”

“Oh yes.” Bilbo shakes his head, and they spend the next several hours discussing the similarities and differences between dwarf and hobbit family structures. The experience is surprisingly enjoyable, and Balin seems honestly interested. It’s a great relief to Bilbo to talk of such innocuous things after so long spent fretting about daemons and soul objects and giving offense to kings who hate him for no good reason. 

Bilbo and Balin part soon after when they stop for camp at Thorin’s command, and Bilbo finds that he and Madge spend the next few hours making themselves useful just to spite their leader. He cannot very well say that they are useless if they put themselves to good use after all. And if he spends his breaks loudly complaining to his daemon about his sore legs, the lack of proper meals, and how he misses their bed, then that is their business alone. 

“Here,” Bombur says gruffly, handing Bilbo a bowl full of stew he helped prepare while Madge had been darting around Bifur and Bofur’s feet, entertaining them, which their mother and her daemon Merryweather had always said was just as important as any other duty. Bombur doesn’t meet Bilbo’s eyes, being one of the more uncomfortable dwarves around Madge. Bilbo thanks him anyway and leaves to enjoy his food.

He doesn’t really get the chance. 

“Bilbo!” Fili, Kili, and to a less excited and distracting extent, Ori, come to a stop in front of him. Fili has that gleam in his eye and Kili seems like he’s about to vibrate straight out of his skin. 

Bilbo turns with a sigh, already anticipating the headache and mourning the loss of the relative quiet. Not to mention his food going cold. “Hello, what can we do for you?” 

Kili darts forward, taking him by the hand and leading the group to a collection of rocks that he proudly proclaims to have gathered, which Bilbo supposes are supposed to be their rustic chairs for the evening. He settles himself down on the flattest one, Madge curled on his lap, and looks at the three young dwarves expectantly. “So.” 

They all pick a rock and sit. “We were hoping to ask you- or uh, ask you _two_ some more questions about your daemon,” Fili says with smile aimed at Madge. 

“It’s Madge,” Kili whispers loudly and nudges him, beaming down at her. “Hello.” 

Madge sits up straight. “Hello.” 

Kili smiles at her, but then turns back to Bilbo. “So, your daemon is your soul, and your soul has the shape of a cat?” 

“No,” Ori says, rolling his eyes. “Bilbo _is_ the cat.” 

“Oh,” Fili and Kili both say, nodding at each other. 

“Mother give me strength,” Madge says, looking up at the sky. 

“Ah.” Bilbo gives a strained laugh and sets his bowl on the ground. “Here Madge, you eat, I’ll talk.” 

She huffs but jumps down anyway, settling herself and starting to eat the meat from the stew first, much to the apparent amazement of the dwarves. 

“What?” Bilbo asks, already regretting the question. It opens the floodgates again. 

“She eats?” 

“No, she hasn’t before.” 

“But she’s doing it now-”

“Bilbo?”

Bilbo holds up a hand and the three of them all go blessedly silent. Ori is staring at Bilbo so intently that Bilbo is almost afraid his eyes will pop straight out of his head. “Yes, she eats when she wants to. Usually I eat because I prefer to, but we share the energy. Right now she is eating for us so I can talk to you.” 

“That’s very useful,” Ori says, jotting something down in the little book he has. “Does it work the same way for sleep?” 

Bilbo shrugs. “It can.” 

“That’s amazing!” Kili exclaims. “She can sleep for you? Why would you ever want to sleep?” 

Fili leans forward. “What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleeping?”

“Do you dream the same dreams?”

Bilbo leans back as they lean in, blinking rapidly and trying to focus on three heads at once. They keep asking questions, getting louder and louder until Madge finally jumps into his lap, yelling over them all. “Quiet, all of you!” 

Surprisingly, they listen to her, falling silent almost immediately. 

“Stop talking all at once, you are being quite rude. This is what I propose,” she says, flicking her tail. They all stare at her avidly. “You have things you want to know about us, and we surely have things we want to know about you. It seems to me that the logical thing would be to trade questions.” 

“Ah, yes,” Bilbo agrees, nodding down to her. “For every question Madge and I answer, we get to ask a question in return.” 

Fili and Kili immediately look at each other with contemplation, and Ori produces another slightly bigger notebook from nowhere and starts writing. Fili leans forward, elbows on his knees. “This is an interesting proposal Mister Baggins.” 

“And Madge,” Ori mutters. “Madge came up with it.” 

“Yes,” Kili says, adopting the same serious tone. “Very interesting. Do we get one question as a group or one question each to every one of yours?”

Bilbo taps his fingers on his knee, thinking. “One question each.” 

“Do we get a question from both of you? Or is it one answer from either Bilbo or Madge?” Ori asks, keen eyes flickering between them.

Madge laughs. “We count as one unit so only one for both of us.” 

Fili strokes his beard. “Might Kili and I count as one?” 

Bilbo rolls his eyes. “That would be ridiculous. No.” 

Fili smiles. “Just negotiating.” 

Kili nods. “It’s what we do.” 

Ori tugs one of the flatter small rocks into the middle and sets his paper on it. “Let us draw up some rules shall we?” 

Negotiating with the young dwarves is ridiculous but infectiously fun, and they settle on the majority of the rules for what Bilbo calls ‘the question game’ in a few hours, stopping only briefly so Thorin can give out the watch schedule for the night. He leaves Bilbo and Madge out again, like he had done every night, but this time Bilbo resolves to speak up about it. He leaves Madge to finish the negotiation, moving to stand in front of Thorin when he passes close enough to stay within range of her, but far enough away to speak semi-privately. 

There is a tightening around Thorin’s eyes when he sees Bilbo, which only makes him more determined. “What is it now Master Baggins?”

Bilbo keeps his focus, resolving not to be intimidated. “I wanted to speak with you about the watch schedule.” 

Thorin raises an eyebrow but says nothing, and after a moment Bilbo continues on his own. “It’s just that you haven’t given Madge and I a night watch the entire time and-”

“You want to have a night watch? I would have thought that beyond the desires of hobbits.” 

Bilbo hesitates. “Well it doesn’t exactly sound pleasant, but that is not what this trip is about, and I-” 

“I have not given you a night watch shift because you are too little and incompetent to do it properly, and I will not trust someone so untested with the lives of my kin and subjects.” 

Bilbo presses his lips together, hard, and counts to five. He doesn’t think Thorin would give him the chance to get to ten without walking away. “Well. In the Shire we say that two pairs of eyes are better than one, and if you don’t want us to do it because we are inexperienced you could put us with another at first and-”

“No,” Thorin says, and begins to walk away. Bilbo moves to follows him but quickly realizes he is as far from Madge as he can comfortably go. Thorin sees this and laughs. “Stuck master burglar? How you can bear to live in such a limited manner I cannot understand. Goodnight.” 

Left standing open mouthed and deeply insulted, Bilbo doesn’t notice that Madge has come up to him until she has her tail wrapped around his leg. He looks down, and she walks her feet up his leg until he picks her up, cradling her tightly to his chest. 

“I don’t know why you bother with him,” she says, grumbling deep in her chest

Bilbo frowns, still staring after the King. “Neither do I.”


	7. Taboo Topics

“Bilbo my dear hobbit,” Fili calls, strolling up to him and throwing his arm around his shoulders, Kili loudly approaching from the other side. 

Bilbo eyes them with false nervousness, making them laugh and Kili run up to him faster. For the past few days, things had been rapidly improving between Bilbo and Madge and most of the rest of the dwarves, Thorin being a clear exception. Being aware of the Gathol and actively trying to discuss it with them had made a world of difference. Bilbo had even made headway with complimenting Bifur’s axe Gathol through a series of hand gestures and points, who despite the clear communication barrier Madge had declared ‘the friendly sort’. 

“Hello boys. What can we do for you two?” Bilbo asks, glad that they had stopped for the day. Though he has greatly reduced his complaining, at least when the others can hear, the journey is still hard for him. He can barely take the hike, let alone the force of their enthusiasm along with it. 

“Well Bilbo-”

“-and Madge.”

“We have another question.” 

Bilbo nods, the nervousness starting to build in his stomach. Since they had started their question game Bilbo had been working up to one particular question that is burning a hole in his mind, driving him to distraction, and he had finally decided last night that it is time to ask. 

Madge stop cleaning herself to look at them. “Both of you have a question? Or you have one question between the two of you?” The use of ‘we’ by the dwarves still occasionally confused both of them, since they had no sentient daemons to refer to. 

“This time only the one question,” Kili says, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Bilbo thinks that he almost looks nervous. 

“Very well,” Madge says, wrapping her tail around herself. “Ask away.” 

Kili hesitates, glancing over at his brother. Fili squares his shoulders and speaks up. “We were talking to Balin, to get good ideas for questions you understand, it wasn’t cheating, and- why is it not allowed for other people to touch someone’s daemon?” 

Madge blinks, looking surprised. She glances up at Bilbo. “Oh, well. That’s an easy question I suppose. We call it the taboo. Remember how we told you about how if Bilbo or I get hurt the other also feels the same pain?” Both dwarves nod, synchronized. “We are linked, but Bilbo is the...host?” She looks back to Bilbo for confirmation and he shrugs. 

“I suppose you could say it that way. That’s a close enough explanation,” Bilbo says, trying not to sound as uncomfortable as he feels. He’s never actually talked about the taboo with anyone other than his father when it was explained it him as a child. 

Madge flicks her tail in agitation. “Right. Essentially what that means is that when someone else touches him, I don’t feel it unless it’s a very strong sensation. But I am the very manifestation of his soul, and if someone touches me even for a moment it’s intensely painful.” 

“Really?” Kili aska, eyes wide. “What happens?”

“Nothing really happens,” Madge says, glancing up at Bilbo, who is staring at his feet. “It’s just wrong. It feels like being sick, and dizzy, and...it’s just awful. Other people shouldn’t touch someone’s soul.” 

“Not even if they’re married?” 

“What if they’re family?”

“No,” Madge says, her little face scrunched up and whiskers twitching. She’s clearly trying to impress the seriousness of this on the two usually carefree dwarves. “Not even then. The only time it has ever happened to us was a complete accident. No one would ever do so on purpose.”

Fili and Kili start to look truly alarmed, so Bilbo steps in. “It’s easy enough to avoid, and it’s completely fine for two hobbits or two daemons to touch, it just can’t go the other way.” 

“That’s…” Fili doesn’t seem to know what he thinks about it. 

“Interesting,” Kili finishes for him. Then he blinks. “Is that why you’ve been so careful about not touching the Gathol? We noticed you went out of your way not to.” 

Bilbo laughs. “I suppose. Once I found out that you consider them to be your daemons I might have avoided it, though I knew that it wasn’t nearly as big a taboo as it is for daemons because I touched many of the Gathol when you all visited me, remember?” 

“Right,” Kili says, nodding. “Well, that was our question. Do you need time to-” 

“No,” Bilbo says, maybe too fast. Madge glances up at him sharply. “I know what I want to ask.” 

They both look at him with a sort of open curiosity that makes him feel momentarily guilty, but he fights it down. If they can ask about the taboo Bilbo can certainly ask whatever he wants in return. In order for the quest to be successful Bilbo needs to know these things. He sets a hand on Madge to give him strength. 

“Where is your uncle’s Gathol?” 

Kili’s eyes go wide and Fili’s narrow. Neither of them speak for a long stretch of seconds. The stress almost becomes too much for Bilbo, and he can feel how tense Madge has become under his hand, but then Kili speaks, eyes on his brother. 

“I’m not sure that-”

“It’s in Erebor,” Fili says very quickly, glancing around the campsite. No one seems to be paying them any attention. “Strictly speaking I shouldn’t really say, but we did have a deal and there were no off limits topics in the contract.” 

Bilbo nods, still trying to process the new information. Back in Erebor? “May I ask a follow up question?”

“No,” Fili says, voice strained, and next to him Kili’s fidgeting has reached new and concerning levels. 

“You did,” Madge points out, but it’s clear that her heart isn’t in it. “We answered everything about the taboo.” 

Kili shrugs. “But you didn’t have to answer. It’s in the rules.” 

“True enough,” Bilbo says, feeling incredibly awkward. What does it mean if a dwarf is separated from their Gathol for that long? Shouldn’t his soul have bonded to a new weapon by now like Fili and Kili had told him was possible the other day? 

Fili and Kili are quick to change the subject, and continue the rather futile effort of teaching Bilbo to throw knives. Bilbo goes along with it without complaining, still feeling a bit guilty. He doesn’t even make a fuss when they laugh at him, not even when they wind up holding their sides on the ground when he somehow manages to hit the complete wrong tree. They go to bed in good faith, and Bilbo finds himself more relieved than he would have thought he would feel that he had not ruined their burgeoning friendship for the sake of his curiosity. 

Madge, who usually curls up under the blanket in the space right behind his knees, places herself directly above his left shoulder with her tail laid across his neck so she can whisper to him without being overheard. “What does it mean?” she asks, not having to clarify what she’s referring to. 

“I don’t know. He must have lost it when the dragon attacked,” Bilbo breathes back, eyeing the dwarves to make sure none are listening. “Maybe he’s too stubborn to change.” 

She snorts, which causes her whiskers to tickle his ear. “I bet he is. I bet that’s why he’s so awful, he’s literally walking around without part of his soul all the time.” 

“Yes. That must be horrible,” Bilbo says, trying to imagine a life without Madge. It makes his chest hurt. Madge snuggles closer to his neck, probably considering the same horrid possibility. They fall asleep soon after, both still thinking about Thorin. 

The next day Bilbo finds himself lost in thought and feeling generally unsociable. Not even Madge speaks to him, so attuned to his mood as she is. She spends the whole ride curled up in the space behind him, her natural balance as a cat allowing her to keep her position. He has no such connection with the dwarves, so Bilbo manages the situation by riding next to Balin, who usually has the kindness Bofur paired the willingness to ignore Bilbo of Dwalin, which creates a pleasant but silent riding atmosphere. 

Bilbo finds his gaze drawn constantly to the front of their procession, to Thorin. The king rides either with Gandalf or Dwalin nearly everyday, with the other bringing up the rear and watching over the rest of them protectively. Thorin frequently glances behind his shoulder or makes use of turns in the path to check behind him, eyes landing on each member of the company, even Bilbo, before looking forward again. Once, about three hours into the day’s journey, Ori’s pony trips over something, throwing him to the ground. Thorin notices immediately, halting the entire procession while Dori helps him back up and check for injuries. Bilbo watches Thorin watch them, sees how Thorin waits, and makes sure that he can safely move on before ordering that they continue. 

“Hm.” Bilbo chews on his lip, eyes fixed on the back of the king’s head. 

“What,” Madge says, speaking up for the first time since they had set out for the day. She nimbly jumps to his shoulder, her claws a familiar momentary pain on his shoulder. 

“Nothing,” Bilbo says, and she nips at his ear. He shoots her a glare. “Alright. Thorin isn’t a bad leader.” 

“No, he’s not,” Madge says, keeping her voice low. “He just has an awful personality and thinks he can treat people however he wants.” 

Bilbo hums again, looking away from Thorin in favor of other things. He’s tired of thinking about him. It’s not like Thorin would ever give him or Madge a moments thought. They stop for the night at an abandoned farm, and Bilbo is feeling unusually good about the state of his life for once until Gandalf storms away from Thorin in a huff. The sight of the retreating wizard sends a shiver of fear down Bilbo’s spine, and as he helps make dinner he can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. Madge can feel it too, she sits uncharacteristically still and silent near his feet, tail twitching, moving only when he does. 

Bilbo tries to ignore it, accepting the bowls for Fili and Kili with a strained smile. As he turns, Bifur taps him on the shoulder. “Ah- yes?” Bilbo asks, knowing that he won’t be able to understand.

Bifur points to Madge and says something. Bilbo turns to Bofur out of habit, who is frowning. “He wants to know why Madge is in such a bad mood and won’t play with him tonight.” 

Madge jumps to Bilbo’s shoulder to be closer to ear level with Bifur, nearly knocking the bowls out of Bilbo’s hands. “I’ll play after dinner,” she says and Bifur nods, looking satisfied. Bofur casts them both a bright smile. 

They walk out to where Fili and Kili are watching the ponies. “Is something wrong?” Bilbo asks, glancing at her. She shakes her head.

“I just feel better when Gandalf is around.” 

“Me too.” 

“And I have a bad feeling.” 

Bilbo hums, looking up at the sky. “Me too, it’s probably nothing though.”

Unfortunately nothing turns out to be trolls who turn out to want to eat them. Bilbo and Madge get strong armed into investigating and getting the ponies back. Madge rustles the bushes in key areas to distract them, staying low and flat. She’s too dark and small for the trolls to see well, making them confused and angry and giving Bilbo time to set the ponies free. Their luck runs out though, and they ends up fighting, the dwarves charging in with their weapons. In the ensuing confusion, Bilbo and Madge get far more separated than they should, the pain and breathlessness distracting both of them to the point that it gets Bilbo caught. 

Dangling from the hand of one of the trolls and dizzy with pain, Bilbo almost doesn’t catch the flash of silver wings in the sky, bright against the waning moonlight. 

The trolls bag them up, all except for Madge who had evaded capture, talking between themselves. Bilbo holds on for as long as he can, trying to slow down the proceedings and buy time with advice and threats. It works, but not well enough, and one of the trolls starts to reach for him. Madge jumps from a tree, hissing and spitting and lands on the trolls face. He jerks away from Bilbo with a gasp and finally manages to bat her away, sending her flying into a tree so hard it sends Bilbo to the ground, landing hard on his knees. He struggles to breathe, vision going dark. The next moments are chaotic with Gandalf arriving and turning the trolls to stone, and then freeing the company. None of them seem to know what is wrong with Bilbo however, and he can barely breathe, let alone speak.

Fili and Kili fret, touching him all over, looking for blood. “I just don’t understand-”

“They didn’t hardly touch him, but look at his face!” Bofur exclaims. 

Oin pokes him in the side and Bilbo recoils, sinking further to the ground. “He has no bruising, but he’s displaying signs of broken ribs.” 

“How though?” Ori cries, wringing his hands. 

Bilbo wheezes, trying to gather the strength to tell them to _find Madge_ when Gandalf notices the scene and does it for him. “Look around, we need to find his daemon-”

“Here she is! She’s alive,” Nori’s voice carries over and Bilbo feels a jolt of relief followed by a wave or horrible sickness.

“Good bring her- no you fool use a blanket! Don’t touch her!” 

Bilbo looks up to see Gandalf carrying her to him with the hem of his own robe, her little body curled into a ball but still alive, and passes out.


	8. Earned Rest

Bilbo wakes up to a lot of pain. 

It seems that someone is driving a hot poker between his ribs. For a moment he is horribly confused, but then he remembers. _Madge._ He gasps, and tries to sit up only to be immediately pushed back down again. It doesn’t matter, he sees Madge curled on his stomach now, asleep. He lets out a sigh of relief. 

“Don’t you even think about it laddie,” Oin says, his hand still pressed against Bilbo’s shoulder. “I mean it. You’ll only aggravate your injuries more.” 

“They’re-” Bilbo winces from the pain of speaking. “They’re not really mine.” 

Oin nods sagely. “Aye, but if what I’ve been told is true you’ll be feeling them just the same, and Gandalf says that it’s better if you and your daemon rest together.” 

_Gandalf._ Bilbo turns his head and spots him coming over, Fili and Kili close behind. “Well this is a fine scrape you two have gotten yourselves into this time isn’t it Master Baggins?” Gandalf asks, smiling down on him.

Bilbo smiles back, trying not to move more than necessary. Knowing that the injuries aren’t actually his does little to help what he feels. “Is she going to be ok? How long have we been asleep? Where are we?” 

“She will be fine. We’ve been here for less than a day. Madge has a few cracked ribs but nothing that won’t fix itself in a few weeks.” Gandalf nods in Oin’s direction. “The medicine we gave her is mainly to keep her asleep and out of pain while she heals.” Bilbo bites his lip. Weeks? He’s not sure Thorin will allow that kind of a delay. 

Kili, who has been bouncing back and forth on his feet behind Gandalf, shuffles forward. “Are you ok Bilbo? We tried to protect you, we really did.” 

“Yes we’re very sorry,” Fili says, nodding. “It’s our fault and we were supposed to protect you.” 

Bilbo blinks. “No it’s quite alright, it was a dangerous situation and she got hurt. I think we’re lucky no one died.” 

Gandalf nods. “That we are.” 

“Madge was very brave,” Kili continues. “I didn’t know she would do something like that.” 

Thorin yells from somewhere to their left. “Fili! Kili! To me.” They look at each other and send Bilbo one last smile before skittering away. 

Bilbo looks up at Gandalf. “Are they in trouble?” 

“Some,” Gandalf says, pulling out his pipe. “And to answer your earlier question we are not far from where we were before. We found the troll hoard, it is back that way and down the hill, which reminds me.” He reaches behind him and pulls out a what seems to be a short sword, or maybe a large dagger. 

Bilbo raises his eyebrows, trying to look disapproving from his horizontal position. “What is that supposed to be?”

“It’s for you is what it is,” Gandalf says, laying the weapon down next to Bilbo’s small bedroll. “We found several interesting things in the troll’s lair.” 

Bilbo hums, still pointedly not touching the sword. If Madge was awake she would know what to say. Respectable Hobbits do not run about with weapons. Sympathetic pain shoots through him and Bilbo tries to think of other things. “I thought that I saw Anar you know. That’s why I was distracting them, I was waiting for you.” 

Gandalf hums, puffing on his pipe, eyes on the sky. “Ah, yes. Sharp eyes Master Baggins. She was there,” he says at length. “She was the one who told me to come back.” 

“Oh.” Bilbo wonders how she knew where to find them in the first place, or where Gandalf had been. The wizard always inspires more questions than he answers. “Where is she now?”

Gandalf’s eyes twinkle. “With friends.” 

Bilbo sleeps after that, trying to give Madge double the rest so she can heal faster. He doesn’t give Thorin Oakenshield another thought, resolving to fight him on the issue of Madge’s health if he has to. If Thorin thinks he can bully Bilbo into putting his daemon at further risk, he has another thing coming. The thought is enough to calm Bilbo’s mind somewhat, and he drifts off. When he wakes up again, Oin is still there but Gloin seems to have replaced Gandalf. 

Oin offers Bilbo some water and food, helping him to eat and ignoring all protests. “You are sick,” He claims, rollings his eyes and speaking far louder than is necessary. “Stay down so you don’t harm yourself further.” Most of the dwarves seem rather confused about the relationship between Madge’s and Bilbo’s injuries, but Oin understands it well enough. Bilbo notices that he wears thick gloves when he tends to Madge and a wave of gratitude passes through him. 

“Thank you,” he says when Oin stands, but Oin never seem to hear anyone when he isn’t looking directly at the speaker. Gloin sees this and waves for his attention, making several other quick gestures that cause Oin to turn back. 

“It is of no consequence young one.” Oin smiles. “Healing is my trade, I do it gladly. Though I must say I’ve never treated a cat daemon before!” 

Bilbo smiles as he leaves, glancing over at Gloin, who makes more gestures, like the ones Bofur and Bombur do for Bifur. “That’s-” Bilbo finds that he can’t remember the term. “Dwarven sign language right?” 

Gloin glances over at him and smirks. “It is called Iglishmêk, but don’t tell Balin I told you.” He winks. 

“Right.” Bilbo says, nodding as best he can lying down. “It seems fascinating, is it because he’s hard of hearing?”

Gloin snorts, sitting down beside him. “Plum deaf he is, but yes. It’s just easier.” 

Bilbo thinks about saying that he wishes he could learn so he could better communicate with both of them, but then he remembers Bofur saying that the language is restricted and he doesn’t want to give offense. If Madge had been awake she probably would have said something to cover the pause but as it is awkward silence descends, and Bilbo scrambles for something else to say. Oin and Gloin are the two dwarves he knows the least about, except that they are part of Durin’s line. Luckily the silence doesn’t seem to bother Gloin one bit, and he takes out his axe for cleaning. It doesn’t look like the axe Bilbo thought was his Gathol, but Bilbo jumps on the opportunity. “That is beautiful, is it your work?”

Gloin straightens his back. “This one? No. My wife made it.” 

“Wow,” Bilbo says, hoping that it’s an appropriate reaction. “I didn’t know you were married. Do you have children as well?” 

That turns out to be the magic question, and Bilbo spends the next several hours hearing all about Gloin’s wife and son and occasionally adding something about his own family. It reminds Bilbo of his aunt Hilda who is known for being unaccountably proud of her eight children no matter if they invent some new farming tool or simply pick fruit, but Gloin manages to pack that level of excitement into talking about one son. 

Eventually Gloin gets called away to help with something and Ori takes his place, bringing more food. Biblo takes it gratefully and insists on feeding himself. His ribs are indeed starting to feel better, the sympathetic pain fading quickly now that they are at rest. Ori lets him, no doubt no more excited about the prospect of feeding a grown hobbit than Bilbo is about being fed. 

“It must be very convenient, being able to eat for her,” Ori says, looking at Madge, who is still sleeping. 

“Yes,” Bilbo says between bites. “It’s one of the many benefits.” He knows how weak many of the dwarves will find them after this, but Ori doesn’t seem to think so.

“Oh!” Ori pulls out his little writing pad. “I’ve thought of another question.” Bilbo nods. “What would happen if a dwarf and a hobbit mated?” Bilbo coughs, nearly losing his dinner. Ori pounds him on the back, seeming to forget his injuries. Bilbo waves him away.

“Er-” Bilbo doesn’t know what to say. 

Ori waves his hand, looking embarrassed. “I just meant, would a child born of a hobbit and a dwarf have a daemon or not?”

“Oh. I have no idea,” Bilbo says honestly. “I have never heard of such a thing.” 

Ori tilts his head. “Really? I was hoping you might have, since you’re a scholar too.” He frowns down at his paper, crossing something off with a piece of charcoal. Bilbo feels a wave of affection for him. Ori had always been civil, if not openly nice at first, and reminded Bilbo everyday of some of his cousins. 

“We could look into it together if we ever get the opportunity.”

“It’s a deal.” Ori smiles, bright and genuine. “I’ve heard that the library at Erebor was wonderful, and had beautifully crafted architecture as well.” 

Bilbo nods, actually interested. Ori also happens to be one of the few dwarves he legitimately shares interests with. “That sounds wonderful. Did you get a chance to look at my library at Bag End?”

Ori shakes his head. “I didn’t want to seem rude.”

 _You were the only one._ Bilbo thinks but doesn’t say due to how close some of the other dwarves are drifting to them. “Well you shall have to visit me again then.” 

Smiling widely, Ori ducks his head. “Do you want to go now?”

Bilbo blinks. “Wha- back to the Shire?”

“No, do you want to have a go at the question game,” Ori says, looking down on him with a frown that makes Bilbo laugh. 

“Oh! Of course, let me think.” There are many things Bilbo could still ask despite his playing with Fili and Kili. He strokes Madge absently, wishing she were awake and whole so she could weigh in on the issue. There is the question of naming Gathol, and there are the few dwarves that he still had yet to figure out. Not to mention the billion questions that still burn in his brain about Thorin. Bilbo doesn’t want to talk about Thorin though, not when he’s still so confused about the issue. He finally settles on a trivial things he had noticed. “Why do some of the company have Gathol that are passed down while others have ones that they made themselves or at least purchased new? Like Fili and Balin.” 

Quite to Bilbo’s surprise, because he had thought it a small and unimportant matter, Ori does not immediately answer. “Well,” Ori looks over his shoulder, clearly checking to see who’s near or might be listening, peeking Bilbo’s interest. “It’s really a personal choice, there aren’t any rules about how a Gathol must be acquired.” 

There is clearly more to the concept, and Bilbo nods eagerly. “But there’s a pattern?”

Ori smirks, leaning down closer to Bilbo and lowering his voice. “It’s something a noble might do to...show respect to their ancestors or something like that.”

“Did you?”

Ori leans back, laughing. “I should say not.” He reaches around to his pack, pulling out an ornately carved box. He opens it and tilts it so Bilbo can see the shiny set of scribe’s tools. “I made these myself, even though it took a long time to make the money to do it.” There is obvious pride in his face and Bilbo does his best to look suitably impressed. 

“They’re fine work.” Bilbo says, and it’s true. He might not know much about weapons, but he knows high quality academic equipment when he sees it. Ori blushes, closing the box with a snap, murmuring a thank you. “Do they all make up your Gathol or is it one of them?”

Ori shrugs, putting the box back in his bag. “It’s a set.”

Bilbo nods even though he really doesn’t understand. He decides to get back to the topic at hand instead of creating more confusion for himself. “So would you say there’s a bit of a principle amongst most dwarves about making Gathol themselves?” 

“Well,” Ori hums, biting his lip. “I suppose. It’s just not the same. I would certainly never want a child of mine to carry a Gathol they did not make themself, no matter what.” 

“What’s that boy?” Gloin calls over to them, holding more food and looking displeased. Ori jumps, whipping his head around so fast Bilbo worries for his neck. “What nonsense are you filling our burglar's head with now?” 

“I was just asking his opinion Master Gloin,” Bilbo says, trying not to laugh. “Ori didn’t-”

“He filling your head with that pride driven Ered Luin nonsense.” Gloin bustles over, sitting down next to Ori who inches away. “Passing down a Gathol is nothing to turn your nose up at. I intend that my boy Gimli carries the axe forged by Farin just as I do, and a finer weapon you could not find to compliment your soul.” 

Ori meet Bilbo’s eyes, one eyebrow raised. Bilbo can almost feel his disapproval. He bites his lip, trying not to laugh. 

“But won’t that leave you without a Gathol?” 

Gloin looks at him like he’s stupid. “Well I’ll be dead, so I reckon I won’t mind that much. _Not the same._ Pah! ” He starts shoveling food into his mouth. “Just you wait Master Baggins, we’ll make a proper dwarf yet.” 

Bilbo tries not to look too alarmed by the concept.


	9. Odd Visitor

The rest of Bilbo’s day is generally pleasant. Madge even wakes up for a few minutes to complain about the pain and fall back asleep on Bilbo’s chest after receiving more medicine. Bilbo lets go of some of his worry after that, content to rest until he sees Thorin heading straight for him. 

“Bother,” Bilbo says under his breath. He hasn’t reconciled his general dislike of the king with his newfound sympathy for Thorin and he doesn’t even have Madge to help him figure it out. With the confused feelings he inspires Thorin is the last person he wants to see. 

“Master Baggins,” Thorin says, standing above him in an imposing and rude manner. His gaze flickers over Madge’s still form. “You seem...well enough.” 

Bilbo looks up at him from the ground. “Thank you,” he says uncertainly. “Madge is recovering nicely thanks to Oin and Gloin.” 

They lapse into silence, having already exhausted their conversation points. Bilbo looks away from Thorin’s face, feeling awkward, and notices a new sword strapped to Thorin’s hip. It’s big, and slightly curved, but it seems more elvish than dwarf. If they were closer Bilbo might ask him about it. 

“We should be fit to travel soon,” Bilbo adds, assuming that had been what Thorin came to discuss. 

Thorin nods, looking off into the distance. “Good. These lands are not safe. We need to be on our way as soon as possible.” 

_I know that,_ Bilbo thinks but does not say. It had become abundantly clear just how dangerous the journey is in the past few days. They’re saved from anymore painful interaction by the sudden sound of several dwarves yelling at once. Thorin takes off in that direction immediately, leaving Bilbo alone and painfully curious. 

Bilbo stares in the direction of the commotion, trying to decide if they are in danger or not. All he can make out is the form of a tall stranger, obvious in the company of thirteen much smaller dwarves. None of them seem to be fighting or have their weapons drawn, but the situation still seems tense in Bilbo’s eyes. He tries to stay calm lest he bother Madge’s rest but it’s difficult in the face of the dwarves’ obvious tension as they come back into camp, Thorin in the lead as always, leaving Gandalf and the tall man behind. 

Bilbo tries to get Thorin’s attention, but of course he ignores him, making straight for the pile of rocks where the company had stored their possessions. Bilbo looks around again and spots Bofur, who almost always has a moment for Bilbo. “Bofur!” he calls out, waving, and Bofur comes over to him. “What’s going on? Are we in danger?”

Bofur shakes his head. “No not as such. That’s a wizard over there with Gandalf, and he says that he’s safe,” he points to the two tall figures, still engaged in conversation. “Thorin wants us to get ready to go just in case though.” 

Bilbo nods as Bofur leaves him, wondering how he should make preparations if that’s what needs to happen. Madge really should not be moved in her current state. He sits up fully, arranging Madge comfortably in his lap, and sets about putting his area in order. There’s not much to be done from his current position, but he packs his bag and rolls up the blankets, figuring that he’ll just be unrolling them in a few minutes anyway when Thorin stops being so paranoid. How much danger can they possibly be in with _two_ wizards in camp?

He’s so intent on his pointless preparations that he doesn’t notice he has another visitor until she speaks. 

“What’s wrong with her?”

Bilbo jumps, looking up sharply out of habit only to to find no one there. He looks down instead and sees a duck. Bilbo blinks, caught off guard. “Oh. Hello,” he says, glancing around. Most of the dwarves seen busy, but Ori is blatantly staring over at them, eyes wide. No one else seems concerned. _This must be the other wizard’s daemon._ He thinks, unconsciously laying a hand on Madge. “How are you?” 

“Fine,” The duck says in her strange raspy voice and then she just stares up at him until Bilbo remembers she had asked him a question as well. 

“Madge was hurt fighting a troll.” Bilbo strokes her fur gently, thinking about how angry she’ll be when she finds out that she missed this experience. “She jumped at his eyes and he threw her against a tree.” 

The duck hums and bobs her head. “A brave soul.” She waddles forward and strokes her beak against Madge’s fur, careful to avoid Bilbo’s hand. 

“Yes she is,” Bilbo watches her, curious. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” 

“We are Lumbar and Radagast.” She puffs up her chest, looking less than majestic. 

“Oh.” Bilbo wonders which is which. “I’m-”

“I know,” she says, still focused on Madge. “Gandalf is telling us about you right now.” 

“Right now?” Bilbo blinks. “Oh, do you mean-” But the duck abruptly jumps up and into the air, flying away. Biblo stares up at her, frowning. 

“Get up,” Dwalin says, suddenly right behind him. Bilbo jumps, craning his neck to look at him, huge and holding his two axes. The sight sends a shiver up Bilbo’s spine. 

“What’s happening? Are we under attack?” Dwalin nods and starts to walk away. Bilbo scrambles to his knees, keeping a tight hold on Madge. “But- I can’t! Madge is still-”

Dwalin gives him a hard look. “If you don’t you will die. Make a decision.” 

Bilbo stares after him, heart pounding until Fili and Kili call out to him. He stands, already dizzy and afraid. At his feet, his little sword lies in the dirt and he looks at it fearfully for a tense second before bending over to pick it up, sliding it into his belt with his free hand, still holding Madge with his other. Even that little bit of movement causes pain his his ribs. He can’t imagine what it will feel like if they have to run. 

Fili runs up to him, taking hold of his arm. “Alright Bilbo? We have to go. It’s an orc pack.” 

He starts pulling him in the direction of the rest of the group. Bilbo lets himself be dragged, head spinning. They run through the trees, following behind the wizard. Bilbo goes near blindly, feeling every moment of the constant jarring of Madge’s damaged ribs. They run into the wide plains, Gandalf leading them as the other wizard and his daemon lead the orcs away. The dwarves crowd Bilbo into the middle of the group and he stares down at his feet as he runs, making sure not to trip. Each step sends a fresh wave of pain through him, worse than before. 

At some point, though Bilbo isn’t sure when, the orcs figure out that they’re chasing the wrong thing and come after them. The company stands below a large rock formation, trying to keep quiet and not be found out. 

Bilbo just stands as still as possibly and focuses on not passing out. 

When they have to run again, Bilbo thinks about what Dwalin said to keep him going. If he falls, they both die, so he figures that he better not fall. It should be easy, really. He keeps to Gandalf’s heels, knowing full well that he’ll be less than useless in a fight, and the wizard leads him straight to some hole in the ground, partially hidden by rocks. Gandalf grabs Bilbo by the back of the shirt and drops him down, sending him to the ground. Landing hurts, but he’s already in so much pain that he barely notices and he keeps his hold on his daemon. 

He stays where he is, trying not to be sick from pain, and closes his eyes. The fight is still going on. He can hear the yelling from both sides. The other dwarves join him soon enough, and Oin pushes him away from the entrance, probing his ribs gently to see the damage. Bilbo goes, willing to be pushed around like a doll if that’s what it takes to stop running. There’s a high pitched screech followed by the sound of a horn and Thorin whirls on Gandalf. 

“What is this? Where are you leading us?” 

Bilbo doesn’t hear his response, too busy answering Oin’s questions with the help of Gloin as a translator. He looks around, his vision a bit blurry, to see if they’d lost anyone, but they had already started moving down the path. Gloin hooks an arm around Bilbo’s waist to help him walk and Bilbo lets him, too tired and hurt to protest. His arms are starting to cramp from holding Madge so tightly but he ignores it. The canyon they are in gets thinner and thinner, but the air stays clear. Even through his pain it strike Bilbo as odd. 

“Where are we going?” Bilbo asks, voice little more than a whisper, but Gloin just shushes him. 

Then they come around a corner, and Bilbo sees. “Rivendell,” he breathes, charmed and delighted even with his pain. Gloin just grunts and hauls him forward, towards Thorin and Gandalf who are arguing again. 

“Master Oakenshield you are being quite ridiculous!” Gandalf says, brandishing his staff. “We must ask the elves for aid. Look at your company! They need this rest, and we need answers.” 

Thorin turns to look behind him, gaze settling on Bilbo. His eyes narrow. “If your concern is for the halfling and his pet, may I remind you-” 

“No you may not,” Gandalf says imperiously. He raises his arm, and suddenly Anar descends from the sky and lands on it in the same moment, startling everyone. Even Thorin leans away slightly. 

“Lindir is waiting,” the eagle says, turning her sharp eyes on the company. “Elrond is out, but we will be welcome. They have food.” 

The dwarves all start speaking at once, voices rising in excitement. Gloin squeezes Bilbo’s waist, making him gasp. “Food! What are we waiting for then?”

They all turn to Thorin, who is looking rather childish in Bilbo’s opinion. 

“So be it.” 

They all cheer. Even Bilbo tries, though he passes out almost immediately after.


	10. Seeing Riverndell

Rivendell is superbly beautiful, Bilbo loves it immediately even though he sees very little of it from the bed he has been confined to. He is lucky that the majority of the dwarves seem to want to stay close together, so he has visitors all day. Of course he is also lucky to be alive. 

Bilbo glances down at Madge, who is curled in his lap, safe and whole. Both of them are lucky indeed. Smiling, he refocuses on Kili. 

“You missed that part when you were passed out but all the elves were singing when we came in, it was a racket,” Kili says, Fili nodding gravely behind him. “The food isn’t even that good. When we finally get to Erebor we’ll show you real hospitality and no mistake. You’ll never wish to see an elf kingdom again.”

Bilbo smiles broader, stroking Madge, who is finally awake after three days. “This isn’t technically a kingdom,” she says, rolling her eyes. 

Kili shrugs. “That just proves it in my mind. Erebor is better.”

“You’ve never even been there yourself!” Madge cries, seeming to want to make up for all the talking she missed while she was asleep. Bilbo laughs at Kili’s affronted expression. The dwarf becomes so offended that he gets up off the bed to go back to the room he shares with his brother and uncle. Bilbo watches him go with some amusement. 

The company is quartered in what seems to be a guest building, separate from the main house but still close. They are all sharing five rooms with one common space, Bilbo with Oin and Gloin since he was still under Oin’s active treatment when they arrived. Apparently he missed a rather tense standoff between Oin and the elf healers that were sent to look at them. It wasn’t until Lord Elrond himself came to offer his service as Madge’s _secondary_ physician that Oin relented at all.

In Bilbo’s opinion it’s a shame to be so far from the main part of the Last Homely House but it seems to make the situation a little better for the rest of the dwarves, and probably for the elves as well. Thorin has taken to pacing the length of his room, muttering to himself with his sword in hand, and none of them will go out of the house without a partner. Of course the group cannot leave with Madge still recovering and certainly not without Elrond looking at the map. It’s quite ridiculous, and Bilbo finds himself entertained even trapped in his bed. Still, he looks forward to being finally released so he and Madge can go exploring. 

Fili offers him a tense smile when they hear Kili slam the door. “Don’t worry about Kili. He’s just proud.” 

“I should say so.” Bilbo rolls his eyes. “We didn’t even try to say that Imladris is better!”

“And we won’t,” Madge says, still starting off after Kili. “Who knows what he might do.”

“Is that what you really think though?” Fili asks, frowning, his eyes on his Gathol. He had been polishing it to an intense shine for the past hour and it glitters in the light. “You think this place is better?”

“How should I know?” Bilbo crosses his arms, tired of this already. “I’ve never been to any dwarf kingdom and I’ve barely been here! Honestly, I never knew dwarves are so sensitive.” 

Fili holds up his hands. “I’m not the one trying to start a fight!” He laughs, which puts Bilbo’s mind at ease. Bilbo laughs too, holding his ribs which are occasionally still sore when he moves too much. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Oin yells as he bustles into the room and pokes Fili with the edge of the food tray he is holding. Fili flinches away, glaring at him. “What do you think you are you doing to my patients?” 

“Nothing!” Fili exclaims, dodging another swing of the tray. “We were just talking.” 

“Nonsense,” Oin says even though he likely didn’t even hear Fili’s explanation. “These two need their rest. Out with you.” 

Fili shoots Bilbo a helpless look before leaving the room, skirting around Gloin with a glare as the other dwarf enters. Gloin looks at Bilbo with raised eyebrows as Oin sets the tray on the bed. “Problem?”

“No,” Bilbo says, eyeing Oin as he puts his gloves on to examine Madge’s ribs. He does so gently, talking to her softly as he goes. Bilbo smiles. “He just wasn’t pleased that Fili was making me laugh.” 

Gloin rolls his eyes. “Of course not.” He stands next to the bed on the other side, eyes on Madge. His expression holds none of the wariness Bilbo had been associating with the way the dwarves look at her anymore. In fact, very few of them still do. 

“There now Miss Madge, you are coming along nicely,” Oin says, leaning away and stripping the gloves off. He laughs. “Should be right as a rock in a mine in no time!” 

“When will we be able to leave?” Madge asks, and looks at Gloin. Sometimes Oin can hear, and more frequently he can read lips, but not on a cat. Gloin signs over to him and Oin shakes his head. 

“Not now.” 

“But soon?” Madge asks, clearly hopeful.

Gloin rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re so excited about. There’s naught out there but trees and improperly curved buildings.” 

“Still, we would like to see it.” 

Oin shakes his head again. “No.” 

“But-”

Oin and Gloin both turn towards the door at the same time, startling Bilbo with their abruptness. Fearing danger, he looks too only to see and elf standing there, dark haired, beautiful, and looking extremely uncomfortable. Madge laughs and Bilbo tugs her tail lightly. “Hello,” he calls out politely, eager to meet him. 

The elf eyes the dwarves warily but answers. “Hello. I am Lindir. Lord Elrond sent us to check on you.”

“Us?” Gloin mutters, clearly unhappy at the thought of more elves in his room. Never mind that it belongs to the elves in the first place. Bilbo doesn’t bother to correct his mistake. 

“Please come in,” Bilbo says, ignoring Oin and Gloin’s betrayed glares. “I am Bilbo Baggins.” 

“I am aware.” The elf smirks, stepping into the room. The most elegant cat daemon Bilbo had ever seen follows him, grey and sleek, and he looks down at Madge who is watching her approach with curious eyes. They stop at the edge on the bed, on the opposite side from Oin and Gloin. “This is Fanyamar.” 

Bilbo shares a glance with Madge. It seems strange that she would not introduce herself, but perhaps that is how the elves do things. 

“This is Madge,” Bilbo says, and Madge moves to sit up. 

“Please, don’t get up,” Fanyamar says, and her voice is just a beautiful as the rest of her, though she eyes Madge, who is much fluffier and less symmetrical overall, with some amusement. “You are still injured.” 

Madge sits up anyway. “I have to get up at some point. Please tell Lord Elrond that we are very well.” 

Lindir and Fanyamar both incline their heads in the same way at the same time. Bilbo smiles reflexively. “I must say I didn’t expect to see many cat daemons here. Aren’t the daemons of Rivendell usually birds?” he asks without thinking. He had read it in a book about different types of elves once. The Noldor, which Bilbo remembers make up most of the elves in Rivendell, usually have bird daemons. Lindir’s expression doesn’t change so much as tighten, and Bilbo hears Gloin snicker under his breath. He blinks, realizing his mistake. “Oh, no I- I didn’t mean-” 

“Yes. They are. Is there anything else you require?” Lindir asks, coldly. Fanyamar is maintaining her silence once again. When Bilbo doesn’t answer he turns around and leaves without another word. 

“So what, he’s like a freak elf?” Gloin slaps him on the back. “Good one laddie.” 

“I was just trying to make conversation.” Bilbo grimaces, twisting his hands in the blankets in distress. “I really didn’t intend to give any offense. I just thought that maybe he was from a different group.” 

Madge turns around in his lap, glaring. “Yet you succeeded. Who’s the worse half now?” 

That sends Gloin and Oin into louder, more violent fit of laughter and soon Bilbo and Madge join in, bad as Bilbo still feels. The noise attracts some of the other dwarves, some of whom had been waiting by the door anyway to spy of their elf visitor. Fili, Kili, Ori, Bifur, and Bofur all end up joining them in their room for the night, sharing food, telling tales, and taking turns singing songs. Bilbo and Madge even sing one song which earn far more applause than is due because the dwarves are so impressed by the idea of a singing cat. 

Bilbo rolls his eyes as Madge makes fun of them for it. “So a talking cat is just fine but a singing cat is extraordinary?” They all laugh again and Bilbo with them, though he still can’t fight off the guilty feeling that came from insulting the elf, no matter how many times the dwarves congratulate him for it. He even earns a nod of approval from Thorin when Kili runs to tell him, but it only make him feel worse. Despite his guilt the party is fun, and before long Bilbo suggests that they move it to the main room so that everyone can join in. 

During one of the more active songs that requires a lot of dancing and attention Madge curls herself around Bilbo’s neck and whispers to him. “We need to apologize to that elf.” Bilbo nods, still clapping in time to the music, which has attracted Dori, Dwalin, and Balin as well. Madge purrs. “Lets sneak out tonight and find him, you know Oin won’t let us otherwise, he thinks we’re like children.” 

Bilbo side-eyes her. He knows she feels better, he can feel it too, and nothing is likely to happen to them in the protected valley but _still_. “Really?” he murmurs doubtfully. “We shouldn’t have to sneak anywhere.” 

She rubs against his face. “Exactly.” 

Bilbo rolls his eyes, already knowing that he’s going to agree to this ridiculousness. 

He excuses himself from the party, claiming exhaustion. They believe him even though the sun is barely down and he rolls his eyes as he shuts the door to his room, moving to the window. The dwarves will be up for a long time so he doesn’t have to worry about Oin, and they won’t bother him if they think he and Madge are sleeping. They can be gone and back in no time without anybody ever knowing a thing. 

He lowers himself out of the window, which is probably low for an elf but rather high for Bilbo, and lets himself drop the few feet. He lands easily, a testament to how nicely recovered he is if he does say so himself. Oin is clearly worrying over nothing. Feeling rather self satisfied and Took-ish he raises his arms to catch Madge and happens to glance to his right, directly into Nori’s eyes. 

Bilbo freezes and almost misses catching Madge, sending them both to the ground and Nori into a fit of laughter. “Uh, hello Nori,” Bilbo tires, feeling like a fauntling again as he scrambles back to his feet. The dwarf is laughing too hard to answer properly, doubled over with his hands braced on his knees. 

“He sounds like he’s dying,” Madge gripes, clearly embarrassed. 

“For the love of Mahal,” Nori says, wiping at his eyes. “Just go, I can’t breathe-”

Bilbo tries not to look too guilty. “We were just getting some air-”

“Don’t care.” Nori waves a hand, heading back around the building, still laughing. “I won’t say anything.” 

Bilbo and Madge share a look. “Well that was less than ideal,” Madge grouses and Bilbo laughs self consciously, though surely anyone could have heard the noise Nori had been making. They go, making for a path between two beautiful trees that looks promising. 

“Wow,” Madge breathes as they come up over a hill and Bilbo nods, still holding her. Rivendell is beautiful, and he feels a pang of regret for missing the view when they came in. It was lovely from the hidden pass, but up close the city at night is otherworldly, beautiful beyond measure.

“Come on, lets try to find Lindir,” Bilbo says, more to himself than to Madge, though all he really wants to do is stand on the balcony they had wandered onto and stare. He walks forward to the railing, looking up at the stars. 

“-yes, the moon will be in good position in a few days. I will be able to read it then,” a voice drifts up to them, regal and calm. Bilbo jerks back, spotting Lord Elrond and Gandalf walking on the grass below. They’re rather far away, but not so far that Bilbo can’t hear him, or Gandalf’s response.

“I’m sure Thorin will be most appreciative.” 

Elrond glances over at the wizard, his eyes narrowed. “Will he now. Gandalf, I might not know exactly what you are doing but do not think that I can’t sense trouble when I see it. The line of Thror is afflicted with madness.” 

Gandalf shakes his head. “Thorin is not his grandfather. I would think that you of all people would understand what it is like to have one's heritage used against you.” 

Elrond sends him a dry look that sends a chill up Bilbo’s spine, but Gandalf does not even flinch. “He is unstable. No dwarf should lead without a soul tool in his possession.” 

“Ah, but Thorin has made progress on that front, or haven’t you noticed?” Elrond makes a face and Gandalf nods knowingly. “You do not spend enough time with dwarves anymore my friend, you are out of practice. The sword Orcist is valuable to him, more so than he knows. It is the tool that he will use to take back his kingdom.” Bilbo inches forward, unable to tear himself away. 

“Perhaps. It would not be wise to isolate, you are correct in that. Even if we are at peace.” They are getting closer and closer to Bilbo’s rather obvious hiding place and he backs up reluctantly, right into Thorin himself, who catches him by the shoulders. Bilbo gasps, so startled he drops Madge. 

“Uh- Thorin I-”

Thorin holds up a hand, his expression unreadable. He tugs Bilbo away from the balcony and into a darkened area under some stairs, Madge slinking after them at his heels. “What are you doing here? You are supposed to be-” Bilbo waves a hand, gesturing down to Elrond and Gandalf and Thorin’s eyebrows shoot up. “What of them?” 

“Didn’t you hear?” Madge asks, whispering. “They were talking about you.” 

Thorin’s gaze turns speculative. “They were too far away. Are you saying that you were able to-” 

A falcon suddenly lands at their feet, one Bilbo doesn’t recognize, but its eyes are far too intelligent to be anything but a daemon. He grabs Thorin’s arm, squeezing to get him to stop speaking even though he can probably barely feel it. He’s proved right when Anar lands next to it, leaning over to speak to the other bird with some amusement. 

“Well Telumendil, it seems that your guests are feeling better.” 

“Yes,” she says, firmly but there is no malice in her voice, looking up at Bilbo with sharp eyes before turning her gaze on Madge. “Though we thought that they would not be out and about for a few days yet.” 

“Lord Elrond,” Thorin growls, and Bilbo winces, because that is not quite correct, but the falcon only looks amused. 

“Master Oakenshield,” the real Lord Elrond calls, having come around the bottom of the stairs, Gandalf right behind him. Both birds glide over to their respective partners, Anar settling on Gandalf’s staff. Elrond inclines his head. “Master Baggins, how good to see you up and active, though I do believe-”

“I gave him leave to stretch his legs for once. Sitting still can only do so much good and I will not have any member of my company coddled,” Thorin says, practically spitting the words. 

Elrond glances at Bilbo, who is trying and likely failing to look innocent. “I see.” 

“We are going back now,” Thorin says and walks away without another word, leaving Bilbo to make their farewells, try to excuse Thorin's rudeness, and thank Lord Elrond again for his hospitality. 

Elrond inclines his head but his daemon speaks up. “You had better run after your leader Master Baggins, lest you lose your way.” 

“Of course.” He backs up a few steps, Madge slinking along next to him. Gandalf chuckles. “Excuse me.” 

Thorin is indeed very far up ahead and Bilbo still cannot run so by the time Bilbo reaches him he is waiting by the front door to their house, arms crossed. When he sees Bilbo he straightens and drops his arms to his sides, looking at Bilbo far more intently than he is used to. “Well?”

Bilbo blinks at him dumbly for a moment before he comes up with a plausible response to Thorin’s perpetually odd behavior. “Oh! Of course. Thank you for telling-”

“No, Master Baggins, what were they saying about me?” 

“Oh,” Bilbo says, suddenly nervous. “Well they, uh-” 

Just then Kili bursts out of the house, Fili following behind. “Uncle! You’re back! Bilbo and Madge are….missing,” he trails off, having caught sight of Bilbo. 

Bilbo glances down but Madge is hiding behind his legs, leaving him alone to deal with the situation. Thorin is of no help, still staring at Bilbo with his intense blue eyes. Bilbo scratches the back of his head. “Ah, sorry?”


	11. The Library

“So did you get in trouble then?” 

Bilbo turns to see Nori lounging in his doorway, looking unabashedly amused. He’s holding his staff, twirling it absently. 

Bilbo rolls his eyes. “No. I’m not a child you know.” It’s not exactly true, per se. Oin had yelled himself hoarse about proper treatment plans, saying that he was worse than a dwarf after a mine mishap, whatever that had meant. He seemed ready to forgive them when Madge apologized, however. Fili and Kili were worse though, vacillating between making fun of him and making him feel horribly guilty. Luckily Thorin had put a stop to it all, claiming that he had no problem with it. Bilbo still isn’t sure why Thorin would almost lie for him, or at least bend the truth, but he isn’t about to question him. Though Madge thinks it’s because Thorin still wants to know what Gandalf and Elrond were talking about. 

Nori shrugs, inviting himself in. “Coulda’ fooled me. No beard or nothing, and you’re so small.” 

Bilbo glares at him, though it has no effect. “All hobbits are small, and get out of there!” 

Nori drops Gloin’s pack, waggling his fingers to show that they’re empty. “I was just looking.” He sits down on Gloin’s bed like he owns it, swinging his feet. “What are you doing anyway?”

“Getting ready to meet your brother at the great library,” Bilbo says, feeling suspicious. Nori had never taken such an interest in him before. “Why do you ask?”

Nori shrugs, sitting down on Bilbo’s bed now and peering at the staff critically. Bilbo and Madge share a look. “No reason. I’ll walk you there.” 

“Oh you will?” Madge asks, speaking up for the first time. Generally she maintains her silence around the dwarves that don’t know her well, but Nori doesn’t seem bothered by her. 

Nori taps the staff on the ground lightly. “Yes. It’s nice not the be the one in trouble for once.” He winks. 

Bilbo huffs, amused in spite of himself. “Well I never, and where were you last night?”

“Just exploring.” 

Bilbo rolls his eyes but makes for the door, Madge and Nori following behind. They don’t see many of the company as they pass through the main room. Bilbo glances at Thorin’s closed door and wonders what he and Balin are discussing. They talk almost every morning. Bilbo puts it from his mind as they leave the house. The day is clear and pleasant as it always seems to be in the valley. They start down the path, and Bilbo glances over at his now silent companion. 

“That is a beautiful staff,” he says to break the silence. 

Nori nods. “It’s certainly served me well over the years.” 

“Not humble at all are you?” Madge asks sarcastically. 

Nori just shrugs. “Don’t need to be.” He holds the staff out in front of him. “See? Perfectly balanced, light but sturdy metal. It’s perfect,” he says in the tone that all the dwarves adopt when they talk about their Gathol. Bilbo can’t help but smile. 

Madge is making a nuisance of herself, getting under his feet as they walk. “Don’t most dwarves have weapons?” 

Nori just shrugs, lowering the staff as they pass through an arch. “No. It’s an individual thing.” He narrows his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be asking this as part of your game?” 

“Ori told you about that? And no, that’s not a rule. We can ask other people anything we want.”

“He tells me everything, I’m his big brother.” Nori waves a hand. “In any case, I’m not really a warrior, more of an explorer at heart, if not by trade.” 

Bilbo snorts. “Thievery counts as a trade?”

“It does if you’re any good at it.” Nori laughs, reaching over to punch Bilbo in the arm, which hurts. A lot. Bilbo tries to swipe back at him halfheartedly, but he misses. Madge stays out of the whole business, turning her nose up at the both of them and proceeding to the library. 

After a few more minutes they reach the library, which is really more like a series of libraries connected by walkways and bridges. The main building is also massive. Nori doesn’t seem too impressed but Bilbo feels his eyes go wide at the sight of it. “Wow.” Nori laughs at him. 

“Bilbo!” Ori yells at him from the top of the steps and Bilbo sees a passing elf flinch away from him at the loud sound. He waves. 

Bilbo waves back then turns to Nori. “Are you coming in?” 

He makes a face. “No, see you at dinner.” 

“It was nice talking to you,” Madge calls, already four steps up. 

Nori narrows his eyes at her. “Alright.” Then he leaves, heading for the grass and twirling his staff.

“What an odd person,” Madge says as Bilbo picks her up, agreeing mildly. 

Ori is bouncing from foot to foot, visibly excited. “I’ve been inside already, I couldn’t wait.” 

Bilbo laughs. “Well lets go, I want to see too!” 

The inside is just as beautiful as the outside, though Ori repeatedly tells them that the libraries in Erebor are far grander. The shelves are high and wonderfully carved, full of books of all types. They’re too tall for even an elf to reach all of them, and Bilbo sees many ladders all around the room. He eyes them with suspicion. Hobbits tend to keep their feet on the ground.

The great room is also full of chairs, tables, and stands for daemons to sit or perch on with podiums placed nearby, which excites Madge very much. The one small public library and book shop in the Shire isn’t large or busy enough to warrant such accommodations. Only ten minutes in the library and Bilbo is having his favorite experience of the entire adventure. He has to repeatedly tell Ori to keep his voice down though, because the young dwarf seems determined to nearly yell everything he says. 

“Haven’t you ever been in a library before?” Madge whispers at him, looking around at the disgruntled patrons, mostly elves but they’ve also seen a few men here and there.

Ori looks just as affronted. “My family might not be as rich as-”

“No.” Bilbo waves a hand. “She only meant that you need to be quite. Aren’t the libraries in the mountains quiet?” 

Ori makes a face, still taking at full volume. “They’re not as loud as the _mines_ to be sure but people are allowed to talk at least.” 

Bilbo frowns. “But, no never mind. Elven libraries should be as quiet as possible.” 

Ori still looks doubtful, but maintains his silence nonetheless. They wander through the shelves, looking at all the interesting titles, Bilbo happy to follow Ori’s lead for a while. After an hour it becomes clear that Ori is looking for something specific. 

“Books written in Khuzdul, or about dwarrows,” he says when Bilbo asks, still peering into shelves. “King Thorin asked me to.” 

Bilbo tilts his head. He’s never even seen Thorin with a book. “But why? Wouldn’t he rather read something new?” 

Ori snorts. “He doesn’t want to read them, he just wants to know if the elves have them, because they shouldn’t.”

Bilbo can perfectly imagine Thorin saying that. “Oh for the love of-” He cuts himself off before he says something rude at an even ruder volume. Bilbo stomps away, Madge following at his heels and laughing too loudly. 

He consoles himself by finding several interesting looking books and settling down in one of the chairs, Madge beside him on one of the unoccupied pedestals. Usually Bilbo and Madge read the same book, Madge on Bilbo’s shoulders, but she had been eager to try this new way, even though it meant she has to turn the pages herself. Bilbo thoroughly enjoys himself, though at one point he glances up and sees Anar on one of the reading perches apparently studying a text. 

Bilbo scowls at her until she looks up and glides over to him gracefully, landing on the arm of his chair. “Bilbo and Madge, how nice to see you. Not sneaking around today?” 

Politeness makes Bilbo answer in a civil tone. “Hello Anar. No, we are not but wouldn’t you know? You are following us.” 

Anar tilts her head, expression unreadable. “This is a public library, Master Baggins. Do not be rude just because you are still embarrassed you were caught.” 

Bilbo flushes and Madge jumps into his lap. “He is sorry. We know we were being foolish, but we were just so excited to explore the valley.”

“Well of course you were.” Anar bobs her head. “Did you ever track Lindir and Fanyamar down?”

Bilbo winces. “You heard about that?” He asks with growing dismay. 

“No, but I heard Lindir complaining to Erestor about the incident in the garden.” 

“You did? Or was it Gandalf?” Madge asks, curiosity evident in her tone, but Anar just winks at her and flies back to her book. Madge turns around to whisper to Bilbo. “They share one mind Bilbo, I’m sure of it.” 

“Maybe...oh and here’s Ori,” he says, gesturing to the excitedly approaching dwarf. 

Ori reaches them and tosses a book into Bilbo’s lap, making him grunt. “Here, that’s all I could find, but I’m not sure how relevant it is, my elvish isn’t that good.” 

“I’m surprised you know it at all, I wouldn’t think many of your kind would bother.” Bilbo looks down at it, mentally translating. “‘When and why the races mix’. Ori, this isn’t about dwarves, and it certainly isn’t written in Khuzdul.” 

Ori huffs. “I know, I stopped looking for that hours ago, this is about our research project.”

For a moment Bilbo doesn’t have a clue about what Ori is talking about, but then he remembers Ori’s question from a week ago. “Oh, you think this might have information about half dwarves and their daemons.”

“Or Gathol, but yes essentially,” Ori says, pointing to a chapter title over Bilbo’s shoulder. “I don’t think that any of these are specific to us, but they might have some general information. This was the only book the librarian could think of to show me.”

Bilbo turns, scandalized. “You asked a librarian about this?” 

Ori shrugs. “Yes.” Madge laughs from her perch, watching instead of reading now. Bilbo shakes his head, amazed yet again by dwarven boldness. He never would have asked an elf about such a topic. 

They pour over the book together for a few hours, but find nothing pertaining to their questions. It’s not that surprising. From what the others have told him, Bilbo doubt that there are that many half-dwarves running around out there, if only because they tend to have problems conceiving to begin with. It’s still fun however, and Bilbo finds himself in good spirits as the three of them leave the library for the day. 

“You’re elvish is actually quite good you know,” Bilbo says, smiling at Ori, who blushes slightly. 

“I’m a fast learner, Dori always says so.” 

“Well I reckon he’s right,” Bilbo says, enjoying himself. He had never had any younger siblings, and his cousins had mostly been older than him, so he never had the opportunity to play this role. “I could teach it to you if you’d like. You should know as many written languages as possible if you’re going to be a proper scribe.” 

Ori straightens his little shoulders. “Oh I am. That’s part of why we’re on this quest.” 

Bilbo tilts his head. “To write about it?” 

“No, so that I can be a proper scribe,” he says, sounding slightly more hesitant now. 

“I don’t understand, don’t they have scribes in the blue mountains?” 

“Yes but…” Ori glances around. He looks terribly nervous, and for a moment Bilbo is worried he might trip over his own feet. “My father...was not Nori’s. Or Dori’s. We have no social standing, but if we help take back the mountain then we might rise above our reputations.” 

“I see,” Bilbo says, nodding. “That shouldn’t make a difference, but it does. I would be lying if I said we didn’t have such prejudices in the Shire. They’re nonsense of course, but I understand your problem.” 

“You don’t care?” Ori asks, sounding far too vulnerable for Bilbo’s tastes. He imagines Ori growing up a social outcast, or maybe even just growing up knowing that was a possibility, and he doesn’t like it one bit. 

“Why should I?” Bilbo answers, though he must admit to himself that it explain some things about the three brothers. “You are not your mother or your father, you are you.” 

Ori visibly relaxes and slings an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders. “What about you? What will you get from this quest besides a lot of gold?” 

Bilbo laughs and they walk back to the house in the setting sun. When they get back, the company has already started dinner and cheers when they come in, startling Bilbo. “You should be used to it by now!” Bofur calls out, grinning and Bilbo waves him off, embarrassed. Thorin stares at him as he walks into the room and Bilbo avoids his gaze resolutely. 

Ori pulls his sleeve, leading him down to the far end of the table to where his brothers are sitting, which suits Bilbo just fine as it’s as far away from Thorin as possible but he distinctly hears Fili and Kili muttering something about ‘our burglar and our cat’ as he passes. They settle for yelling at them from across the table. 

“Bilbo!” Kili waves and Bilbo raises an eyebrow at him, actively eating. “Can you send darling Madge down here? We have another question.” Madge rolls her eyes but walks down the table just the same, settling on the bench in between the two princes, which is good because Bilbo knows that they at least know not to touch her. 

“Another question?” Bofur asks, leaning backwards in his chair to look at Bilbo. “What’s he talking about?” 

“Oh, we’ve been playing this game where we take turns asking each other questions about the differences between us.” 

Bofur tilts his head. “That’s not much of a game.” 

“Perhaps not but it kept them from asking me a hundred questions at once!” 

Bofur laughs, nodding his understanding. “Still, I can see how that could be useful. Can others play or are you just doing it with them?”

“I hadn’t considered it but I don’t see why not-” Bilbo feels a sudden jolt of cold and nearly jumps out of his chair, hearing something smash at the same time. The dwarves all laugh and Madge comes running back to him, clearly incensed. 

“They put the ice water on me!” she hisses, furious. Bilbo glares down the table. He doesn’t have to ask who ‘they’ are. 

“Sorry Bilbo!” Fili calls.

“And Madge!” Kili adds. 

“We just wanted to see if you would feel it too,” Fili says, not even having the grace to look properly guilty. 

“Well I did. Congratulations.”

“Aw come on Bilbo don’t be such an elf about it!” Nori pounds him on the back, laughing and Bilbo winces. Ori sends him a sympathetic look but Bilbo ignore it. He saw Ori laughing along with the rest of them. 

Thorin, who has been watching Bilbo on and off throughout the meal, finally speaks. “Enough foolishness. And you two-” he says, running his fingers along the hilt of Orcrist, which Bilbo had noticed right away is sitting his his lap, and sending a sharp glare to his nephews. “Settle down, we don’t need another injury in this company. I won’t delay anymore than we must.” 

Bilbo looks at his plate, avoiding Thorin’s eyes and hears Nori mutter to himself. “Cheerful.” Ori bites his lip. 

Dinner starts to wind down, and some of the dwarves retire to sleep or do whatever else it is they do, leaving Bilbo at a rapidly shrinking table with Thorin Oakenshield, whom Bilbo desperately does _not_ wish to speak to. The last time he tried to have a conversation with the king about his Gathol Thorin shut down. Not that their relationship could really get any worse, but Bilbo generally tries to avoid unpleasant conversations. It’s why he never lets his awful cousin Lobelia corner him at parties. 

Madge is the one who crafts their escape, letting her curled ears droop and claiming exhaustion from all their ‘strenuous activity’ exploring the city, which somehow works, even on Ori. “They really think we’re that weak,” she says, curling up near his feet as they settle down. 

“Well you certainly just encouraged them to.” 

She huffs. “ _Well_ , if they’re going to think it of us we had might as well use it.”


	12. New Connections

The next day Bilbo wakes up and immediately leaves the house with Madge at his heels. They walk a short distance until they come to a bench in a lovely area by a low stone wall. He knows that he and Madge won’t be able to avoid Thorin forever of course, but that will hardly stop them from trying. 

“Maybe we should just talk to him,” Madge says, settling down in the comfortable grass and wrapping her tail around her body. 

“That’s easy for you to say,” Bilbo grumbles, packing his pipe. “You’re not the one he’s going to yell at. He always just ignores you.” 

“Yes but we-” She turns her head in the direction of the house suddenly and Bilbo freezes, but it’s just Dori who comes lumbering out of the tree line, pipe in hand. 

“Oh,” Dori says when he spots them, stopping at an awkward distance. “I didn’t realize that you were here, I’ll just-”

“No it’s quite all right,” Bilbo calls out, knowing that Dori still does not feel particularly comfortable around Madge but finding himself annoyed with dwarves in general. Besides, he has to learn sometime. “Come sit with us, we can smoke together.” 

Dori visibly hesitates, his eyes darting between Bilbo and Madge warily, but his ingrained politeness ultimately wins out over discomfort. 

“Thank you Master Baggins,” Dori says, fiddling with his pipe. Bilbo smiles at him as he sits down on the bench with a resigned look, wondering if Dori realizes that they’re more similar than he might know. 

“Of course,” Bilbo responds, tapping his pipe. They lapse into silence, Dori mostly staring at the ground. Usually this would be the moment in the conversation with a dwarf in which Bilbo would compliment that dwarf’s Gathol, but he realizes with a shock the Dori does not seem to be carrying his tools. He tries to make sure out of the corner of his eye, since the mace is rather smaller than what most of the others have, but he doesn’t see it. He hadn’t even known that such a thing was done, or under what circumstance, and it’s not like he and Dori are close enough that he feels comfortable asking him about it. Bilbo chews his pipe nervously, realizing they were at an impasse already and they had not even begun speaking. 

Something touches Bilbo’s foot and he glances down to see Madge, who casts Bilbo a series of disparaging looks until he realizes that they do in fact have one thing in common. “I had a lovely time with your brother yesterday, he’s a nice young dwarf.” 

Dori glances at him briefly, clearly torn between what Bilbo knows to be his near constant desire to discuss his youngest brother and to leave. “Yes, he is.” He puts the pipe back in his mouth, but Bilbo refuses to be deterred. 

“He’s quite the talented young scholar,” Bilbo continues, trying to draw Dori out. “He and I had a rather stimulating discussion about the differences between hobbit and dwarf souls.” 

Dori hums, looking at Bilbo from the corner of his eye. “Ori is the most promising mind in all of the Blue Mountains,” he says, getting louder with every word. “When we retake Erebor he will be able to have any position he likes!” 

Bilbo nods encouragingly. “I don’t doubt that at all,” he says, finding that it is quite easy to talk to Dori after all. He just has to pretend that the dwarf is a doting hobbit grandparent at a formal tea and he knows just what to say. “He bragged that you are the strongest member in the entire company! So if you’re supporting him then I don’t see why not.” 

“Oh well- I’m not sure if I would say _that_ ,” Dori says, though he clearly believes it to be true. “I’m sure that Dwalin could give me a run for my money.” Bilbo laughs and Dori laughs with him, shaking his head which somehow doesn’t disturb the intricate braids. Bilbo catches Madge’s eye, worried that she would be growing bored, but she just winks at him. 

They fall back into silence, but it is more comfortable this time, until Dori suddenly glances over sharply at the low stone wall behind them. “Oh, look here,” he says, making an unpleasant face. Bilbo glances over and sees the biggest green luna moth he had ever laid eyes on. “This is why having dwellings above ground is ridiculous.” 

Dori raises his hand above his head, no doubt to either brush it away or crush it, but the moth interrupts him before he gets the chance. “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from hitting me.” It says with a low and pleasant voice. Bilbo finds himself soothed by it. Dori screams. 

“Mahal wept!” Dori cries, scrambling up and off the bench so quickly Bilbo is worried he’ll hurt himself. Bilbo bites his lip to keep from laughing but Madge doesn’t bother to restrain herself, giggling loudly and rolling in the grass. Bilbo kicks her lightly, which only amuses her further, and looks up to see Dori’s retreating back, already going back over the hill. 

Bilbo blinks, taken aback at the sight of a dwarf fleeing from a moth. Then he remembers his manners and turns back to the creature in question. “I apologize for that, my companion is not used to dealing with daemons.” 

The moth closes and opens his larger wings in a fluid motion, catching the light, and Bilbo finds himself fascinated by the sight. “There is no need to apologize young master hobbit.” 

Bilbo nods, still staring. The moth is clearly an elf’s daemon, which is fascinating to him still even after being surrounded by them. He finds himself at a conversational impasse for the second time. Interacting with a daemon without their holder is just as strange as dealing with a dwarf without a daemon had been at first. He has no practice with it. Luckily Madge jumps onto the bench and rescues him. 

“Sir.” She dips her head respectfully, and Bilbo understands her inclination. Something about this daemon commands respect despite its small size. “The dwarves mean well, they’re just not very good at dealing with us.” 

“I am aware, young one.” The moth flexes its wings again, and Madge stares, her eyes wide. “All races in this world are different.” Madge bobs her head reflexively and Bilbo finds himself nodding as well. The concept seems very simple when he says it. 

“Master Baggins, Miss Madge, how nice to see you in the daylight again.” A familiar voice calls out to them, and Bilbo turns to see Lord Elrond approaching with the loveliest woman Bilbo had ever seen holding his arm, his lordly falcon daemon sitting on his shoulder. For a moment he even forgets to respond, so striking a trio they are.

“Lord Elrond!” He cries when he remembers to speak. “Thank you, I was just-” He stops, noticing that the moth had left them, and apparently not to return to the dark haired elf woman as Bilbo had expected. He turns back, feeling embarrassed. 

“We were just conversing with the daemon of one of you people, my lord. A beautiful green and yellow moth, but it seems that he had business elsewhere,” Madge says diplomatically, covering for him. Bilbo shoots her a grateful look and Elrond smiles. 

“Ah yes. Isil. The Lady’s daemon is quite mysterious in his ways.” 

“Almost mysterious as grandmother herself,” the beautiful woman says, her voice impossibly lovely, and Elrond chuckles. Bilbo tries to laugh normally and not to stare at her too much.

“Arwen these are our guests, Bilbo Baggins and Madge,” Elrond says and turns back to Bilbo. “And this is my daughter, Arwen, and her daemon Luinil.” 

Bilbo dips his head, confused before he notices that the beautiful butterfly pendant at the shoulder seam of her dress is in fact a living being. “Pleased to meet both of you," he says, and Madge mutters something similar from the ground. Arwen smiles serenely and leans over to say something to her father before taking her leave of them. Bilbo watches her go with a sort of placid sadness, the feeling akin to watching the sun go down. Lord Elrond sits down on the bench and gestures to Bilbo. His falcon takes off from his shoulder, flying to another building.

“I do hope that we did not offend your daughter in any way,” Bilbo says, sitting down on the bench.

Elrond fixes him with an amused expression. “Not at all, she merely sensed that you wished to speak with me and chose to give us the opportunity.” 

“Well, yes,” Bilbo says, feeling guilty all over again. “I was hoping that you would be able to direct me to a member of your staff.”

Elrond raises an eyebrow. “If you have a problem or a request you should not hesitate to ask me.” 

“Oh, no. We are quite content here. Everything has been perfect.” Bilbo twists his pipe in his hands. “I meant a specific member, Lindir and his daemon Fanyamar. I...offended them and I would like to apologize.” 

The other eyebrow shoots up. “Offended them?” He looks far too amused for how Bilbo views the situation. “I admit it is not terribly difficult to offend them, but I would have sooner expected this from one of your traveling companions Master Baggins.” 

Bilbo laughs awkwardly. “Ah, well. I assure you I did not mean to offend anyone, but I have and I would like the chance to make it right.” Madge is staying quiet again, hiding under the bench and behind Bilbo’s dangling feet. 

Elrond nods sagely. “An honorable sentiment, but perhaps this is merely a misunderstanding?” 

“It was. A...cultural misunderstanding on my part, even though I surely should be used to those by now with my traveling companions!” Bilbo tries to joke and avoids his eyes but Elrond is not deterred, maintaining his gaze on Bilbo’s face until he feels compelled to tell the whole story. When he finishes, Elrond is frowning down at him, making Bilbo feel even smaller than he already does. 

“Master Baggins. I am not convinced you have anything to apologize for. Iluvatar created no unworthy creature and makes no mistakes. Having a cat daemon is nothing to be ashamed of, and if Lindir does not realize that it is not your fault,” he says sternly. “Perhaps it is I that should speak to him.” 

Bilbo has to fight the urge to flinch away from his intense gaze. “Of course not, but I pointed out something that sets him apart from the others of his kind in front of some of the dwarves, and that can be painful.” 

To his surprise, Elrond merely tilts his head. “I see. You are correct in that, Master Baggins.” 

Bilbo resists the urge to shrug, thinking back to certain snide comments about his Tookishness from otherwise well-meaning hobbits. “I just know how it feels to be seen as different, though perhaps not quite that different. It is not entirely pleasant, even if it is irrational.” 

Elrond hums, looking out towards the trees. “As do I.” Bilbo huffs a laugh, because surely Lord Elrond must be kidding, but stops when he sees his wistful expression. Elrond looks back down at him, amused again. “I will tell Lindir that you wish to speak with him.” 

The elf lord stands in one fluid motion and Bilbo jumps to his feet. “Thank you Lord Elrond.” 

Elrond nods to him and turns away, walking back towards the main houses. Bilbo stares after him, feeling oddly like he had just woken up from a dream. He’s so caught up in his own musings he doesn’t notice Madge until she has jumped from the bench to his shoulder, startling him. “Oh! Careful there,” he cries, though his heart is not in it. 

Madge ignores him and curls her fluffy tail around his neck for balance. “That was…strange.”

“I know.” Bilbo runs a hand through his hair. “But how wonderful!” 

Madge hums, rubbing her head against his chin, tickling him as he walks back in the direction of their lodgings. “Elrond’s daughter was nice to pretend not to notice your awkwardness.” Madge teases, and Bilbo rolls his eyes. 

“I expect she’s used to it, being perfect and all.” He reaches up to give her a light tug on her tail. “Besides, you were the only hiding under the bench.” 

She bats his hand away. “Did you see her daemon? It was so beautiful and still I thought it was part of her dress!” 

Bilbo nods. “So did I.” They spends the rest of their walk talking excitedly about all the things they had seen and all they still hoped to see. When they reach the house they see that several of the company had migrated outside to enjoy the sunshine, though Dori cuts a wide path around them when Bilbo and Madge draw near, uncharacteristic nervousness crossing his face. Bofur, who had been sitting with his brother and cousin, waves them over. 

“Here now, where have you been? I think you missed some of your hobbit meals,” Bofur teases him, his hair loose for once from being washed and without his hat. He looks utterly relaxed in a way that makes Bilbo feel better just to see him. 

Bilbo rolls his eyes good naturedly but accepts the bread Bofur passes him with a smile as Madge jumps to the ground. Upon seeing her, Bifur crouches down to be closer to her level, smiling broadly and speaking in Khuzdul. Bilbo pays them no mind, confidant that Bifur knows best of all the dwarves not to touch her, he had demonstrated the ability to be very careful with her several times. 

“Bifur wants you to know that he’s glad you two are feeling better,” Bofur says, breaking off a piece from the cheese and offering it to Madge. 

“Thank you,” she says primly, to both of them. Bifur makes some more gestures and sounds that Bilbo does his best to interpret, feeling that a friend of Madge’s should clearly be a friend to him as well, but he can only understand the most basic concepts. 

“Ah, yes. Thank you,” Bilbo says, guessing. Bofur rolls his eyes and continues eating while Bifur pays him no mind, seeming content to polish his axe in good company. It’s a beautiful weapon, and Bilbo tells him so again, his appreciation for the Gathol growing as he becomes more accustomed to the idea. “Really quite extraordinary. Such an elegant solution, if you don’t mind me saying.” 

Bifur blinks at him, his eyes sliding over to Bofur, who frowns. “Well, thank ye, but that’s not his Gathol.” 

Bilbo’s eyes go wide. “What?” he demands, either his expression or his tone making Bofur laugh. 

“Really Bilbo, does Bifur seem the type?” Bofur asks, shaking his head. 

“Well, yes!” Bilbo throws up his hands. “With the way he fights-” Bifur interrupts him, pounding his fist to his chest and speaking loudly in his language. Bilbo shrinks back, horrified that he had managed to cause this much offense _again_. Madge weaves her way between his feet, Bilbo’s nervousness infecting her. 

Bofur grabs both of his shoulders in his large hands, no doubt to calm him. “Peace. He’s not mad and I’m only teasing. It’s not your fault, my cousin is a fearsome fighter and that’s something to be proud of for sure!” he says, smiling widely to reassure him. Bilbo casts a glance at Bifur, who does not look angry at least. Then he smiles, his gentleness returning. “He said he appreciates your faith in his skills, even if you are completely wrong.” 

“I don’t understand,” Bilbo say honestly, missing home so suddenly and keenly it is like a punch to the chest. Madge stops moving, placing herself between his legs and wrapping her tail around his calf for a moment before unwrapping it again. Bifur leaves, going back inside the house and Madge stares after him, tail lashing this way and that. 

Bofur tugs his hand and Bilbo allows himself to be pulled down onto the grass, Bofur settling down next to him. He slings an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder, the overt friendliness making Bilbo smile in spite of himself. “It’s a common enough mistake. We dwarves carry enough weapons and tools to stock a castle!” Madge snorts, settling herself in Bilbo’s lap. 

Bofur glances down at her for a second before he turns his hand over to pat her head with the back of his gloved hand, not touching her with his skin, but the brief touch is probably still inappropriate. Bilbo has never heard of someone trying to find a way around the taboo, but as he had given up entirely on respectability he finds it difficult to care given his current state of irritation. Bofur doesn’t notice his internal musings on social conduct. 

“A dwarf may be many things, a miner, a scholar, a warrior, but there is one role we chose to play most of all and with our whole heart. The Gathol reflect that main role, you see?” Bofur asks and Bilbo nods, still miserable but also curious. Nori had said something similar to him when they walked to the library. “It’s not about being so good at something, and it’s not the most impressive thing you own or surely I would have found something grander by now, huh?” Bofur winks and Bilbo can’t help but smile. 

“It’s where you put your soul,” Bilbo says, and Bofur nods, giving him one last squeeze before releasing him. Bifur returns and sits down heavily in the small between them, making Bilbo laugh genuinely. He is holding a simple box of wood. “Is that your real Gathol then?” Bilbo asks, and Bifur nods and puts it in his hands. 

Determined to behave correctly, Bilbo opens to box to find a set of small knives with wooden handles. They’re clearly old and well used, but well maintained as well. Bilbo looks up. “Carving tools?” 

Bifur grunts and reaches into one of his many pockets. He pulls out a small wooden statue of a bird that Bilbo quickly realizes has fully movable wings. “Well this is quite something,” Bilbo says, remembering now that Bifur is a toymaker. “So you’re a toymaker in your heart then?” 

Again Bifur nods, and Biblo smiles. “Thank you for sharing this with me,” he says, truly understanding the ritual for the first time. He hands the box back. 

Madge jumps to his shoulder. “Yes, thank you Bifur. They are wonderful.” 

Bifur says something that makes Bofur laugh and pounds Bilbo on the back, knocking Madge off and into the grass. She growls playfully and leaps at his face, missing on purpose. Bilbo laughs, feeling immensely better as Madge plays with the dwarf, darting around in the grass after him. The dwarves don’t seem to understand that daemons usually play with other daemons, not the holder, but he can’t find it in his heart to wish it were otherwise this time. 

“Enjoying yourself?” an all too familiar voice calls out from behind and Bilbo freezes. In all the excitement of the day he had forgotten that he had been avoiding the house for a reason. 

Bofur gives him a sympathetic look and stands up, ignoring Bilbo’s pointed glances. “See you at dinner,” he calls, catching his cousin by the sleeve and tugging him away. 

“I certainly hope so,” Bilbo mutters as Thorin approaches, his steps heavy even on the light grass. Bilbo turns to face him, knowing that Thorin will appreciate a show of bravery, even in this. 

“Oh, I -uh. Hello Thorin.” 

The king in question raises an eyebrow. “Hello _Bilbo_. You have been avoiding me.”


	13. Matters Unresolved

They walk away from the house is quiet, nearly silent. Thorin stares straight ahead, his mouth set in a firm line. He hasn’t acknowledged Bilbo again since he asked, or rather demanded, to speak with him. Bilbo spends the time sharing worried glances with Madge as Thorin leads them to a less populated area of the city, hopefully not to murder them, but Bibo is not ruling out the possibility just yet. Thorin stops when they reach a large and beautiful stone gazebo, gesturing for Bilbo to enter ahead of him.

Bilbo does with a steadying breath, immediately moving to sit on a bench. Much to his dismay Thorin remains standing above him, his arms crossed. “Well, Master Baggins?” 

“Ah, I suppose you want to know what Gandalf and Lord Elrond were discussing the other night?” Bilbo asks, shooting Madge a stern look. She had been the one to tell Thorin that they had been talking about him in the first place, though Bilbo supposes that this is what they rightly get for keeping secrets. 

“Yes,” Thorin answers, brusk as always. 

Bilbo bobs his head nervously. “Lord Elrond said that he does not know what you plan to do, but he does not trust your intentions. Gandalf was defending you to him. He said that…” 

Thorin raises an eyebrow at him, and Bilbo bites his lip. Madge, who had been curled by his feet, speaks up. “Gandalf said that you are not your grandfather and that Lord Elrond should not judge you on the basis of your relatives.” 

The dwarf seems to consider this for a moment, staring silently down at Madge for several awkward seconds. “Was that all?” he asks finally, and Bilbo hesitates. He doesn’t technically have to tell Thorin about what he heard of his Gathol, and it would probably go better for him if he did not. 

“No,” Bilbo says, and he feels more than sees Madge look up at him in concern. “Elrond also took issue with your Gathol.” Thorin’s face goes horribly still, and Bilbo presses on before he loses his nerve. “Gandalf defended you for that as well. He said that your new sword is beginning to-”

“Silence,” Thorin hisses at him, features now twisted in rage. Bilbo stops speaking immediately, mouth closing with a snap as he stares up at the king, who is now looming over him menacingly. His hand closes into a fist, but he does not raise it. Still, Bilbo stays motionless, waiting for some sign to tell him what to do. Madge is equally still, but Bilbo can feel her muscles are coiled to spring. 

Finally Thorin turns away, and it’s like the breaking of a spell. “Get out.” 

Bilbo doesn’t have to be told twice, and Madge is even quicker to leave the place than he is. They move as fast as they possibly can without outright running. As he rounds the bend that will lead them back to the house and to relative safety, Bilbo casts a glance over his shoulder and sees that Thorin still has not moved. He is standing facing the bench, though now his head is turned towards the ground, his hands limp at his sides. 

“Bilbo, lets go,” Madge says, having gone as far as they are able to separate. Bilbo nearly jumps, oddly surprised to hear even the voice of his own daemon. 

“Sorry,” he responds reflexively, and hurries down the path after her. Thorin nags at the back of his mind the whole way, though it’s not as though the dwarf will allow Bilbo to help him. They make it back to the house in once piece and immediately realize that they do not want to be there. It’s nothing against their companions, but Bilbo finds himself wishing for the familiar after such a stressful interaction, and though they obviously won’t be getting the Shire anytime soon they can at least have something fairly close. All it takes is one look between them and Madge jumps into his arms. 

“Library?” she asks, and Bilbo heads in that direction without another word. It’s a good suggestion, being surrounded by books instead of rocks and danger for once will do them both some good. “I hope it’s still open, it is getting rather late in the day.” 

Bilbo hums, still distracted. So distracted in fact, that he nearly walks right by Linder without noticing. It’s only when he sees the beautiful cat at his heels that he realizes who is he ignoring. He stops suddenly, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Oh- Master Lindir!” 

The elf, who had no doubt seen him, stops and turns with a sigh, his daemon copying the motion precisely. He has a rather pinched look about his face that Bilbo knows is because of him. “Yes, Master Baggins?” he responds, and judging by his tone only because it is polite. 

Bilbo draws himself to his full height, which is at the level of about Lindir’s waist, and wishes that he had found Lindir at quite literally any other time. “I am glad that we ran into you, I don’t know if you’ve spoken to Lord Elrond-”

“I have,” Lindir says, his gaze drifting away from Bilbo’s face, but his daemon’s eyes stay fixed. Madge fidgets in his arms, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Then you probably know that we have wanted to apologize for our earlier behavior. We looked for you earlier but you are a hard elf to find!” Bilbo smiles, but Lindir does not smile back. Madge grows even tenser. “Well, I hope you can forgive us. We never meant to embarrass you in front of-” 

“There is no need for this Master Hobbit, we were not embarrassed. You can rest easy knowing that you have done no harm,” Lindir says stiffly. It seems to Bilbo that he is lying, but he read that elves don’t lie. Perhaps elves are simply a stranger folk than hobbits. 

Madge finally speaks up, directing her words towards the cat on the ground. “We appreciate the kind words, and you should know that we mean ours. We know we never should have pointed out such a difference in front of the dwarves, which is not to say that there is anything wrong with the way you are, but it was not well done and we regret it.” 

Lindir presses his lips together in a thin line. “Thank you. You are forgiven,” he says in a tone that indicates otherwise. His daemon is no longer looking at either of them. “Now, if you will excuse me I do have work to be doing.” 

“Of course,” Bilbo says, perhaps too brightly. Lindir inclines his head and turns away without another word, his daemon following at his heels. Bilbo watches him go down the path, frowning. 

After a while Madge cranes her neck to look up at him. “We did our best Bilbo, that’s all we can do.”

Bilbo sighs and hugs Madge tightly for a moment. “We can do more.” 

“But not right now. Do you still want to go to the library?” 

“We might as well. No point in wallowing I suppose.” He glances over at the position of the sun. “We should hurry though.” 

“Alright.” Madge jumps down from his arms and begins trotting purposefully in the right direction. Ever since she had recovered from her injuries she had developed a recent interest in walking places herself whereas before she had always preferred to be carried. Bilbo rolls his eyes and follows her, wondering how long it will last. Probably right up until they have to go back out into the wilderness, then she’ll go back to treating Bilbo like a pony. 

The library is not closed, one of the few bright spots in their otherwise very confusing and stressful day, and Madge makes straight for the section on daemon lore and mythology. “I think there has to be some information on wizard daemons in her somewhere,” she says, jumping up to a shelf that’s too high for Bilbo to see.

“We could just ask Gandalf,” Bilbo answers, running his fingers along the spines of books he can reach. If Madge sees something of interest she’ll tell him and then they can go find a stool or a taller person. 

“Yes, but that’s not as fun as research.” 

“Well no but-” 

“Bilbo my lad! There you are,” a voice calls out, far too loudly. Bilbo winces and turns, trying not to see the stares that are being directed towards him as Oin and Gloin approach. 

“Hello,” Bilbo responds, trying to set the precedent for speaking quietly even though he knows they probably won’t pay attention. “What can I do for you?” 

“You’ll have to speak up laddie, I forgot my ear trumpet at the house,” Oin says at full volume. Bilbo winces, which makes Gloin laugh. He starts signing to Oin and speaking to Bilbo at the same time, which Bilbo would find impressive if he were not so terribly mortified. 

“Never mind,” Bilbo says at a near whisper, hoping that Oin will be able to read his lips. 

Gloin slaps him on the back. “Never _you_ mind master burglar, let the elves do their staring, they certainly have the big eyes for it. Look like a bunch of frogs to me.”

Bilbo casts a helpless glance at Madge, who is still pretending to study the books. No help. “Well, that is not a very polite thing to say.” 

Gloin rolls his eyes. “Lad, I’m a father. I know all about ‘not polite’ and trust me, we have a ways to go on that front with these elves.” Bilbo can’t help but crack a smile and Gloin beams at him. “Anyway, I came to fetch you for Thorin. He wants to talk to you.” 

Bilbo does his best not to look too horribly nervous about the prospect. “Oh I see, well then I suppose we should go.” Madge jumps from the shelf, landing lightly on her feet. Oin narrows his eyes at her. 

He points at her. “Is this one being careful enough? You two are just off bed rest. Not that I approved of it, but don’t come crying to me when she goes and breaks herself again.” 

“I am fine Oin, thank you,” she says, Gloin signing her words automatically since they had long learned that Oin could rarely hear her at all and could certainly not read her lips. 

“Fine,” Oin huffs. “Of course you are. I fixed you right up!”

One of the hovering elf librarians finally reaches a breaking point. “Excuse me,” she says, her lovely voice strained while her delicate songbird daemon flits about her shoulder in agitation. She address Bilbo alone. “Would you mind asking your...friends to be slightly quieter?” 

It’s Gloin’s turn to huff. “His friends are leaving now thank you very much.” The librarian presses her lips into a thin line that Bilbo thinks is supposed to be a smile. He tries to offer her a more genuine one in return, but she doesn’t seem to see it. Bilbo lets Gloin hustle him out of the library, Madge sticking close to his heels, too embarrassed to protest. In any case he doesn’t want to be left behind with Oin, who is loudly demanding to be brought to the medical texts while the librarian stares at Bilbo in betrayed dismay. 

“What did Thorin say exactly?” Madge calls up from the path back to the house. “Did he seem angry?” 

“When does he ever not?” Bilbo mutters, dreading the upcoming encounter. Luckily Gloin doesn’t really seem to hear him. 

“He just said that he needs to speak with you,” Gloin pauses, casting a glance down at Madge. “With you two.” 

“I see,” Madge replies, though she looks up at Bilbo. Gloin glances between them, oddly quiet. He’s so distracted that he nearly walks straight into an elf coming down the path. Bilbo grabs his sleeve at the last second and tugs him away, more to get his attention than anything else. He’s not strong enough to pull most of the dwarves anywhere. Maybe Ori. 

“See here Gloin, what’s gotten into you?” Bilbo hisses while Madge apologizes to the elf and his daemon. 

Gloin pulls away easily, at least having the decency of looking slightly embarrassed. “Oh leave off, it’s not like I’m used to these towering stick-limbed elves wandering about!” 

“Alright.” Bilbo leans away, trying not to feel offended. It seems that whenever he begins to think that he understand the dwarves, something like this happens. 

“I do have a question though, if that doesn’t violate the contract you have with the lads,” Gloin says, not looking at either of them. 

Bilbo blinks. “Oh, do you mean the game?” 

“Aye. Are others allowed to ask questions?” 

Bilbo glances down at Madge who tilts her head. “I suppose so.” 

“You can just ask us a question anyway Gloin,” Madge says, and politely jumps into Bilbo’s arms to be closer. “It doesn’t have to be a part of the game, we only did it with Fili and Kili because they asked so many questions it got overwhelming.” 

“No, I’ll hold myself to the same standards as the others thank you kindly,” Gloin responds, nodding to himself as he speaks. 

Bilbo smiles. “Very well then, what’s the question?” 

Gloin chuckles and takes a step off the path. They’ve gotten rather close to the house now and it seems that he wants a degree of privacy. Bilbo follows close behind him, curious. “You may think me foolish, but I have heard this many times and I find myself curious as a wee dwarrow in a workshop. Is it true that daemons share a link to the mind of their bearer?” 

Madge hums and Bilbo nods. “That’s a perfectly reasonable question, I understand why you might think that. It’s not the case for us.” 

“But we don’t know about others.” Madge moves to Bilbo’s shoulder to be eye level with Gloin. “I’ve personally never read anything on the subject about men or elves, but we don’t know much about the connection between a wizard and his daemon.” 

Bilbo nods, thinking about all the strange coincidences he had witnessed in the past weeks involving Gandalf and Anar, and Radagast and Lumbar. “It’s entirely possible. Wizards are another matter entirely.” 

“I see.” Gloin strokes his beard absently, looking out towards the trees. “Nori has been spinning tales about daemons for the entire journey, and he has traveled more than any of us, but you know how he loves to tell his tales. I’m never sure what to believe.” 

Bilbo grins. “Well you’re more than welcome to ask us directly.” 

“Many thanks, now what would you ask of me?” 

Bilbo tilts his head. “Well, I’m not sure. We haven’t had the chance to think of any questions. Usually when the lads ask us we have the opportunity to ask later.” 

Gloin waves a hand. “Fine by me. Come, we should get going in any case, the king is waiting.” 

Bilbo tries not to look too resigned as they head for the house, which is fully lit. The sounds of his friends celebrating reach them even at this distance, but it does little to quell Bilbo’s poor mood. At least one of his problems will likely soon be resolved, interacting with Thorin tends to inspire all sorts of questions that need answering.


	14. Several Disagreements

When they reach the house, they are waylaid almost immediately by Fili and Kili to Bilbo’s great relief. 

“Bilbo!” 

“Madge!” 

They yell their names simultaneously and Bilbo leans away on instinct, quickly finding himself caught between Gloin and Fili, both laughing at him. Several of the other dwarves laugh as well, but by now Bilbo can tell the difference between their mocking laughter and the laughter that just means they’re having a good time. Bilbo shakes his head at Bofur, who is outright pointing at him, which is just rude. Madge darts away from the excitement, and away from stomping feet. 

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to scare you.” Fili grabs his hand and starts dragging him in the direction of the big table. 

“Have you ever played Four Fingers?” Kili asks excitedly, hovering at Bilbo’s shoulder and stepping on his feet. 

“It’s a knife game!” Ori holds up a knife with a smile, the image so incongruous that Bilbo leans away. “You should play with us, I bet you’d be really good. Hobbits are so quick and all.” 

Bilbo hesitates, genuinely unsure if he would rather risk a finger or speak to Thorin. “Well I think-” 

“Master Baggins, a word if you would?” Thorin calls out, and they all turn, the room falling horribly silent. Bilbo meets Nori’s eye, who has frozen with the knife held in mid air, before turning around to see Thorin standing there, holding the door to his room open. Ori, his eyes wide as saucers, elbows Bilbo in the ribs not at all subtly. Bilbo shoots him a glare before making his way to the other end of the room. 

“Of course,” Bilbo says, glad to hear that his voice actually makes him sound more confident than he feels for once. Madge follows at his heels, sending him glance after concerned glance. If Thorin sees this he says nothing about it. 

The sound of the door closing sends a shiver up Bilbo’s spine as he sits himself down on the one chair in the room, Madge firmly wedged in between his feet. Thorin remains standing again. Bilbo eyes him with trepidation, sensing a pattern to these kinds of talks. 

“I have asked you here to...apologize for my earlier behavior,” Thorin says stiffly. The surprise must show in Bilbo’s face because Thorin scowls. “I should not have reacted the way I did. That was not very...kingly of me.” 

“It’s alright,” Bilbo hears himself say. He’s not sure if he means it or not. 

“No, it is not.” Thorin sits down on the edge of the bed. “You may be weak and unfit for this mission but you are still one of my company, and it is not befitting of a king to ask for honest answers and then punish their subjects for giving them.” 

“I-” Bilbo glances down at Madge, who doesn’t appear to have gotten past the ‘weak and unfit’ part of Thorin’s strange apology. He wonders if he should point out that they are not his subjects. “Yes. I agree.” 

Thorin scowls at him now, the expression hauntingly familiar. “Do you accept my apology?” he demands, and Bilbo leans back in his chair. 

“Yes! Sorry, I- yes I accept your apology. Thank you for offering it.” 

“Honor dictated that-” Thorin waves his hand. “It was my duty. I will not punish those that tell me the truth.” 

“Of course.” Bilbo twists his hands in his lap. Thorin fixes him with that stare he has, all superiority and smug malice that Bilbo knows he doesn’t deserve. He straightens his spine. “In that case, and I know I’m probably making a mistake here, but in the interest of full disclosure and trust I would like to be honest again and tell you that I already knew about your...situation and I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Thorin’s expression freezes. His gaze shifts to a point somewhere above Bilbo’s head and stays there for several tense seconds, verging on a full minute of silence. At length, his gaze finally makes his way back down, but he does not meet Bilbo’s eyes. “I see. I had wondered how you understood what had been said. Anything else?” 

“No,” Bilbo’s voice comes out soft, but firm. He feels Madge press against his foot. 

Thorin nods. “Many would have lied just to save their own skin. You were honest.” He finally meets Bilbo’s eyes, though his mouth is fixed in a hard frown. “Which of them told you?” 

Bilbo hesitates. “I would prefer not to say. I don’t want to betray their trust.” 

“But betraying my trust is acceptable?” Thorin demands, some of the fire returning to his voice. 

“I know you feel that way but I only sought to understand you better for the sake of the journey. We have to be in contact for a long time and I wanted to-” Bilbo breaks off at the sight of the look in Thorin’s eyes. 

“We wanted to make it as easy as possible, given our handicap of ignorance and your general dislike of us to begin with.” Madge finishes for him, expressing herself better than Bilbo ever could. 

Thorin presses his lips into a thin white line before letting all of his breath out in a gust. “Very well. Keep your trust, but do not betray mine.” 

Bilbo’s eyes stray to the sword lying on the desk next to the bed. “I won’t.” 

Thorin sneers. “Good. Get out.” 

Bilbo nearly trips over both Madge and his own feet in his haste to get out of the room. 

When they get back to the main room the dwarves seem to have divided into two groups, those that are pointedly ignoring the entire episode (Balin, Dori, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, and Dwalin) and those that are staring avidly as Bilbo approaches with Madge curled in his arm (Fili, Kili, Ori, Bofur, Bombur, and Nori). At least the knife game seems to have ended. Madge hufs when she sees them staring, curling herself into a tighter ball with her face pressed into the crook of Bilbo’s arm. 

Bofur scoots over on the bench at the main table to make space for Bilbo, who shoots him a grateful look as he sits down. “Didn’t hear too much yelling.” Bofur smiles, drumming his fingers on the table. “Couldn’t have been too bad.” 

Bilbo rolls his eyes and reaches for some of the remaining food with his free arm. With the stresses of the day he had barely had time to eat which just wasn’t acceptable. He’s still a hobbit after all. “Of course not. It was fine.” 

Bofur, who seems to be carving something, nods but glances down at Madge. “What’s the matter with her then?” 

Bilbo looks down at Madge too, who seems to be pretending to be asleep, and shrugs. “She’s just tired.” 

Bombur, who is sitting next to Bofur on the other side and had clearly been listening, turns his head at that. “But how-” He breaks of, glancing at his brother. Bilbo nods at Bombur, trying to seem encouraging. He hadn’t had the chance yet to get closer to Bombur at all, the dwarf was one of the few who still remained wary of Bilbo and Madge. Bombur seems to be at least a little reassured, because he continues. “How can she be asleep if you are awake?” 

Kili whips around, knocking a large goblet into Dori’s lap, who jumps up with a shout. He doesn’t even seem to notice, so excited as he is. “It’s because they can share strength between them! They can even do the same with food, that’s why Madge doesn’t eat and yet she never gets any smaller,” he says this as though he is imparting great wisdom, and Fili stands behind him, nodding along seriously as though he had something to do with it. 

Bombur leans back, looking impressed. Several of the other dwarves also nod or begin murmuring between themselves, speculative, except for the few that had already known, who for some reason looks smug. Kili looks unaccountably proud of himself. “We’ve been learning a lot on the journey, which is more than can be said for many of you.” He crosses his arms over his chest. Bilbo rolls his eyes, as do many of the Dwarves. 

Gloin leans back away from the table so he can see Bilbo. “Speaking of learning Bilbo, have you thought of anything yet?” 

Bilbo cranes his neck to see him as well. It doesn’t help that it’s Bombur in between them and that he feels many pairs of questioning eyes turn to them. “Well I was thinking about how some Gathol have names and other’s don’t, and I was wondering about your perspective on the subject,” Bilbo says as diplomatically as possible. Ori whips his head around so fast to stare at them Bilbo worries for his neck, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Of course.” Gloin nods in approval. “It’s a good thing to seek more than one point of view, wouldn’t you say Nori?” he calls out across the table to Nori, who has his arm wrapped around Ori’s shoulder now and his glare fixed on Gloin. Nori make a gesture with his free hand in their direction that make Fili and Kili nearly fall out of their chairs laughing, and even Ori cracks a smile. Bilbo looks away, some of his guilt over bringing it up fading away. 

“We’re just curious,” Madge says, apparently giving up on trying to pretend to be asleep for the sake of her curiosity. Bofur raises an eyebrow at her and she tilts her head, trying to be cute. Bilbo rolls his eyes at her but Bofur laughs. 

“Oh come on lads, Gloin is right after all,” Bofur says, which seems to mollify Nori a bit, though he keeps his hands hidden under the table. 

Gloin stands dramatically and places his hand on the table, evidently eager to have his moment in the spotlight. “It was the custom of the Dwarf Lords to name their Gathol after a great battle or the completion of a great deed. For example Narvi, the great smith of the second age, famously named his great work hammer after he completed the great doors of Khazad-dum.” 

“But you have a named weapon and you haven’t done any great deeds yet, have you Gloin?” Nori says snidely, sharing a look with Dori. Fili and Kili both glare at him, their usually carefree faces twisted unpleasantly. Bilbo frowns, not liking the sight of it at all. 

To his credit, Gloin doesn’t rise to the bait. “No indeed, but I was merely explaining the history behind the custom, not why we still do it today.” Bilbo glances between them, gratified to see Nori relax slightly. Gloin continues, more focused on Bilbo now. “We continue to do so now to pay respect to our ancestors, it is a tradition for many houses.” 

Bilbo nods, wondering if he simply meant the rich houses or if it was more than that. 

“Can I add something?” Ori asks, looking more at Bilbo than at Gloin. Bilbo nods. 

“Of course,” Bilbo answers, ignoring Gloin’s pointed look. 

Ori glances around and sit up straighter, but he doesn’t stand. “I read that the...custom began after the Last Alliance, led by Durin the fourth. He began it.” 

Bilbo nods encouragingly. “That very interesting, thank you Ori.” 

“And Gloin,” Madge says, her tail flicking about anxiously. “We always appreciate knowing more about our companions.” 

“How fortunate,” Gandalf says from the doorway, startling both of them so badly they jump. Fili and Kili laugh, their seriousness long past, which is why Bilbo only halfheartedly glares at them. Bilbo turns to glare at Gandalf as well, but stops when he sees Thorin standing next to him, his sword strapped to his hip. If Gandalf notices any tension he gives no sign. “I’m glad to see that you two are such a good influence. Would you two care to learn some more tonight?” 

Bilbo shares a glances with Madge and stands, gathering her up in his arms. “Of course,” he says, eager to get out of the mess he had created, even if it means he has to spend more time with Thorin, who thankfully seems to be ignoring him entirely.

“Balin,” the king calls out, and walks out of the door, leaving the rest of them to following in his wake. Bofur and a few of the others call out their goodbyes as they leave, but the rest stay fairly quiet. 

“Such drama, and for what?” Madge mutters as they exit, and Bilbo shushes her. 

“I’m sure Shire drama would seem just as ridiculous to them,” Bilbo says quietly. “Can you imagine Dwalin listening to a Chubb and a Proudfoot fight over the placement of stalls in the garden festival?”

Madge huffs. “That’s different, Harlan Chugg knew full well that it was his turn to-” 

“Miss Madge I do believe that you are proving Bilbo’s point,” Gandalf says, amusement evident in his face. 

“Perhaps,” she answers primly, “But there’s really no need for that kind of animosity.” 

Balin speaks up, keeping his voice pitched low. “Maybe, but you have to remember that we’re traveling with a group made up of dwarves from all different classes, and social rank is, for better or worse, very important to us as a group. What would it be like if a Hobbit traveling party had such a mix?” 

Madge flicks her tail. “I’m sure I don’t know. You would have to get them to _leave_ the Shire first.” 

Balin chuckles. “I see, well-” 

“Balin, keep up!” Thorin growls from up ahead. “We have to get this done in good time.” 

The dwarf sighs and hurries forward, casting Bilbo one last glance before he pulls ahead. Madge hums speculatively in Bilbo’s arms. “Why the time limit?” 

“No idea.” Bilbo shrugs. “I don’t even know where we’re going.” 

“To see something interesting I hope,” Gandalf says from behind them. Bilbo twists to send him an irritated look as they pass through an elegant archway and into the main building. He twists back suddenly when Lord Elrond calls out to them, his graceful second self perched on his shoulder. 

“Thank you all for coming,” he says, eyeing Bilbo and Madge with what seems to be curiosity. 

Thorin does not respond but thankfully Balin steps forward. “Thank you for having us, Lord Elrond.” 

“And Telumendil as well, thank you,” Madge adds, nodding to the falcon daemon. Elrond smiles and gestures to a doorway to their left. Balin shoots her grateful look as they pass through together, and Bilbo sees Thorin glance at her with a pensive expression as well. 

They gather inside yet another beautiful room and Bilbo finds himself wondering if there are any ugly things to be seen in Rivendell. Looking at the room they’re standing in now with the gentle light from the skylight he can almost believe that they’re aren’t. He imagines even the medical wing to be perfect, the blood and sickness somehow fitting right in with the decor, or more likely cleaned away so quickly it can’t mar any beauty. Bilbo smiles just as Madge starts to slowly curl her claws into the flesh of his arm to get him pay attention to the apparent conflict between Thorin and Balin over the map. 

Elrond holds the map up to the light and Gandalf leans forward. “Moon runes.” Bilbo glances up to him and he winks. “An easy thing to miss.” 

Madge huffs as Elrond explains the runes. She braces her paws against Bilbo’s arms and pushes back against his chest just to be a pest. “Oh I’m sure. Moon runes. Naturally.” 

As they walk through the city to view the runes by some magical means that Elrond claims to possess Thorin drifts back to Bilbo and Madge, who almost always fall behind when walking with tall people. Madge eyes him suspiciously as he approaches. “He’s not going to _yell_ at us again is he?” she asks, loudly enough to be heard by Thorin, who makes a face. It doesn’t look quite like remorse, Bilbo notices, but at least it’s something. 

“Master Baggins...Miss Madge, I hope you realize the honor that has been bestowed on you this evening.” 

Bilbo frowns at him, trying to resist the urge to simply turn back around and leave. “Yes, thank you,” he manages icily, remembering every lesson in politeness his mother had ever given him at once. 

Thorin frowns back. “Good. You are a witness to history, I’d wager not many Shirelings can boast that.

“Not many _Shirelings_ care much for boasting,” Bilbo responds, even though it’s not really true. 

Thorin seems so genuinely confused that he forgets to become angry. “I truly mean to bestow it as an honor. It does not do to ask for the truth and then punish the giver for it. My actions today were not correct. I would not have any of the company think of me that way.” 

Bilbo stares at him, dumbstruck as Thorin walks away without another word. Madge huffs. “Was that supposed to be an apology? I couldn’t tell.” 

“I certainly hope not if he wants to be a politician,” Bilbo answers, mind still spinning at the rudeness of it all. _Of all the nerve._

They finally reach their rather dramatic destination, a large stone table on the edge of a cliff that has a waterfall pouring over it. Bilbo eyes the edge with trepidation and remains near the door, though neither the dwarves nor the other two in their company seem to fear the drop. “Fools.” Madge mutters from the safety of his arms. The reading of the runes is quite captivating and in such fantastical circumstances Bilbo thinks he sees a glimpse of Lord Elrond the hero from the songs and tales of ages past through his grandeur. It’s humbling to say the least, and the information they get from the map is informative, if a bit confusing to Bilbo. 

“Durin’s Day?” he asks Balin, who turns to him excitedly to explain what it means for them, which unfortunately gives Lord Elrond too much information. 

“So this is your purpose? To enter the mountain?” he asks, looking threatening enough to Bilbo to prompt him to shift further into the background. 

Thorin scowls. “What of it?” 

Lord Elrond narrows his eyes, considering. “I am inclined to be on your side, Master Oakenshield, for I can see that you are putting your whole soul into this effort and that is no evil thing.” His gaze flickers over to Orcrist, still strapped to Thorin’s side, and Thorin glances at Bilbo briefly before looking back, his expression softer than Bilbo had ever seen directed at him. Lord Elrond continues. “You engage in this quest pure of heart and soul, and that will often be enough to yield pure results. But it is not for me to decide alone.” 

“What does that mean exactly?” Gandalf demands, commanding Elrond’s attention once again. Thorin slides back to Balin and Bilbo. 

“Perhaps we should retire for the night,” Thorin says, his tone heavy with meaning Bilbo does not understand. They slip out the way they came, letting Gandalf and Elrond continue their rather loud discussion in private. On his way out, Bilbo casts a glance back to Gandalf. The wizard sees him looking and nods to him seriously before returning his attention to Elrond. 

Bilbo bites his lip nervously, mistrusting the turn his evening had taken already. 

“We’re leaving aren’t we?” Madge asks Balin when they’re finally out of earshot. Balin nods once, visibly tense and Bilbo nearly groans out loud. Madge does it for him. 

“But we just got here!”


	15. Highs and Lows

Getting through the mountains is somehow even worse than Bilbo thought it would be. 

“Alright there Bilbo?” Bofur calls out to him from a few paces behind. It makes a few of the others glance at him in amusement, but Bilbo finds that he’s beyond caring about what they think. 

Madge pokes her head out over Bilbo’s shoulder, which Bilbo firmly ignores. “We’re fine, thank you,” she calls back, answering for him as per their agreement that if Bilbo was going to carry her through the Misty Mountains, Madge was going to talk for him if he got out of breath. As it turns out, being out of breath is a near constant symptom of climbing mountains, as is having sore legs and being hungry. Bofur smiles and nods, but luckily no one else tries to talk to them again until they had stopped for the night. 

Their new lodging for the night is a tiny cave not too far up the mountain. _Not too far from Rivendell._ Bilbo thinks bitterly as he ladles some soup into a bowl and passes it to Dwalin. 

“Isn’t it nice that we have all new supplies?” Madge asks Bifur who nods vigorously. She’s perched on top of Bilbo’s pack and grooming herself. Bilbo casts her a disparaging glance. If Bilbo had his way they might still be warm and safe in Rivendell instead freezing in a cave. But she had been unwilling to leave their new friends, going so far as to climb up on the dresser where he couldn’t reach when he tried to get her to leave the house with him to find Gandalf the night before. She catches him looking and meets his eyes evenly. Bilbo looks away, angrily ladling some more soup. 

Of all the things he had formed regrets about in the past, leaving Rivendell and everything that had come with that choice is likely the worst. Not only had they left a perfectly good living situation in favor of the hard road ahead, but they had left the situation with Lindir and Fanyamar essentially unresolved. Bilbo can stand many things, but leaving a social situation in that embarrassing state of disarray is so rude he can hardly stand to look at her. Did their mother’s lessons mean nothing to her after all these years? He can’t believe it. 

Bilbo grips the spoon tighter as he listens to her carry on about how surprisingly dry and nice the cave is and how good the soup tastes, all for his benefit of course, never mind that she hadn’t wanted to leave at first either and Bifur is a perfectly nice dwarf who doesn’t deserve to be used in this way. He ladles the last of the soup and nearly tosses it into Ori’s face, who jumps back. Feeling guilty, Bilbo looks up into Ori’s wide eyes and frowns. At least he’s the last in the line. “I’m sorry, did I get you with it?” 

“No,” Ori says slowly, casting darting looks between him and Madge that Bilbo doesn’t like. “It’s fine, thank you.” He starts to leave but Bilbo follows after him with his own dinner. 

“May I eat with you?” he asks, and watches Ori perk up. The youngest dwarf always seems to want to spend time with him, probably because they actually have a few things in common that he doesn’t share with his brothers. 

“Of course,” he says, and leads Bilbo over to where his brothers are sitting. Madge doesn’t follow, staying firmly where she is. Dori greets him mildly and Nori sends a pointed look Madge’s way which Bilbo ignores in favor of his food. He can feel Madge staring at his back from her place with Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur but he ignores her too. Awkwardness threatens, but luckily Ori’s terror of uncomfortable situations saves them from actually having to experience one for long. “So Bilbo, what did you make of the library at Rivendell?” he asks loudly, despite the fact that they had already discussed it. 

Bilbo smiles and gives him the same answer anyway. Dori and Nori remain mostly silent, which suits Bilbo fine, and he finds that Ori actually has more to say on the subject. “I thought that the animal, er, daemon reading stations in the library were quite interesting. Do you have those in the Shire?” 

“Think that counts as a game question Ors,” Nori mutters, not looking up from his bowl, though Bilbo sees him hiding a smirk. 

Ori blinks, owl-like. “Oh. I don’t know what else I can tell you though-” Ori looks at Bilbo nervously but he waves him off.

“Your brother is just playing with you, it’s fine,” Bilbo tries to reassure him, but Ori frowns. 

“I suppose, but he might be right.” 

Bilbo sighs. “Ori, it’s _fine_ , it’s just a game. Honestly, you all are so serious about such things.” 

Dori huffs and Bilbo is immediately filled with regret. “I only meant-” 

“Oh it’s _fine_ Bilbo,” Nori says, clearly making fun of him now too. “You don’t have to take everything so seriously.” His gaze briefly flickers over to where Bilbo knows Madge is sitting, which Bilbo resolutely ignores. 

Bilbo blushes and they all laugh. He sits silently until he realizes he’s waiting for Madge to say something. “Alright, alright. I take your point,” he says, embarrassed twice over. Nori bangs him on the back with his fist, which hurts and he hates it but he knows it’s intended to be friendly. 

“Didn’t mean to take you so off track there,” Nori says, sounding at least a bit apologetic. “In my defense you two both make it really easy.” 

“Fine, fine,” Bilbo says, thinking about hitting him on the back too but deciding against it. It’s not likely that he could do it hard enough for him to even feel it. Nori will just laugh at him again. “In any case Ori, as far as I have seen we do not. But I rather liked them too, perhaps we should get some.” 

Ori visibly perks up. “Well, if you want to see, I’ve been sketching some of my own designs.” 

Bilbo smiles. “Of course.” Ori beams and sets his little book of notes, figures, and drawings down in front of them both, flipping to the relevant pages. Bilbo’s eyebrows shoot up. “These are wonderful Ori, you call these just sketches?” He thinks he sees a flash of fur out of the corner of his eye, and he shifts until it goes away. 

“You like them? I’ve done designs for a few different scenarios.” He points to the most ornate. “This would be for the royal library, and I put flowers in it because I know that you daemon holders like that sort of thing.” 

Bilbo tilts his head. “It’s beautiful, but the Shire doesn’t have a royal library.” 

“Oh right,” Ori pauses, then he shrugs. “Well, the nicest house then.” 

“Or you could keep it in Erebor’s royal library for guests. Could go a decent way for softening up us daemon holders.” Bilbo laughs and points to the scribbled notes near the complicated looking design at the base. “What are those for?”

“Raising and lowering. The ones in Rivendell were all different sizes, which doesn’t make any sense. Why not just make them adjustable?” 

Bilbo blinks, surprised. “That makes sense actually. I wonder why no one even thought of that.” 

Ori shoots him an amused look. “Because no dwarf has ever thought about making one of these, that’s why.” 

Bilbo laughs even though he can tell that Ori is being serious. They spend the next hour going through his designs which range from very fancy to plain but practical. “You could probably make a lot of money if you made these and sold them in a market Ori, they’re really good.” 

“Well, we won’t know that until we actually make one, and anyway it’s not really my trade.” 

Nori turns his head. “Sell the design then, Bilbo’s right.” 

“Right about what?” Bofur asks from behind Bilbo’s shoulder, and Bilbo can see Madge standing near his feet. 

“I’m going to get some air,” he says, with what he considers to be admirable control, standing swiftly and heading for the opening of the cave. Luckily he’s able to make it through the space without hitting their limit of separation, but he can’t get very far beyond it. 

He huffs and sits on the ground, right in the middle of the path, fishing around in his pockets for his pipe. Back in the cave he can hear Bofur asking Madge if she and Bilbo are fighting, trying and failing to keep his voice down. Up ahead a bit he can see Fili and Kili, who are supposedly on watch, cast curious glances at him and whisper to each other. He steadfastly ignores all of them and attempts to enjoy the scenery with limited success. 

“Halfling,” someone says from right behind him and Bilbo jumps so badly he drops his pipe. He turns to see Dwalin staring down at him, looking extremely unimpressed. 

“Ah, yes?” Bilbo responds, feeling annoyed at being called halfling again but not enough to actually abandon his manners. He doesn’t need to be fighting with anyone else, least of all Dwalin. 

Dwalin gestures over his own shoulder. “What’s going on with you and the cat?” 

Bilbo sputters. “Excuse me? I’m sorry but that’s really none of your business.” 

Dwalin raises an eyebrow. “Yes it is. Some of the company are disturbed by it.”

“Oh are they? Well-” 

“Yes, the lads especially. They’re worried about it. They would have asked you themselves if Thorin hadn’t told them to leave it be.” 

Bilbo pauses, caught off guard. “Thorin said that?”

Dwalin nods and crosses his arms. “You make enough problems as it is burglar, and now you have half the company on edge.” 

Bilbo winces and casts a glance in the direction of Fili and Kili who had fallen still and silent, clearly watching. They do look worried. Bilbo sighs. “Look, we are having a minor disagreement but it’s not going to be a big problem, ok?” 

Dwalin stares at him in silence for a few more seconds before shrugging and turning back around to announce what Bilbo just said to the entire cave. Bilbo groans and lets his head tip back to rest against the rock, though he can’t really say that he’s surprised. The chatter inside the cave takes on a different cadence and tone and Bilbo rolls his eyes. If Madge were with him she would definitely make a comment about the similarities between a gathering of dwarves and the gossipy hobbit marketplaces of the Shire. Bilbo doesn’t smile at the thought. He never lasts long when he and Madge are fighting. 

Bilbo is still moping around, his pipe long burned out, when Thorin comes out of the cave. “Master Baggins,” he says gruffly and Bilbo jumps again even though he saw him coming out of the corner of his eye. 

“Hello, Thorin,” Bilbo responds quietly, still intrigued by his behavior before. In all likelihood he had just wanted to avoid the drama the boys tend to stir up, but it was still considerate of him. 

Thorin grunts and continues on his path, which turns out to be a straight line to Fili and Kili who jump down off the rock they had been sharing. Relieved from watch, they head for the cave, grinning widely at Bilbo as they approach. “Bilbo!” Fili calls at a near yell, earning a hissed ‘be quiet’ from Thorin. 

“Bilbo!” Kili stage whispers and his uncle makes a series of dwarven gestures too universal for even Bilbo to misinterpret. He bursts into laughter. 

“What can I do for you?” he asks as they surround him, one dwarf on each side, their eyes glinting mischievously. 

“Oh nothing.” 

“We just had another question for the exchange.” 

Bilbo makes a face. “Not right now.”

Fili hums triumphantly and Kili jabs Bilbo sharply in the side. “So you two are fighting!” 

Bilbo rolls his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business.” 

“But why?” Kili says plaintively, only to be cut off by Thorin who says several things in their language, each gruffer and more awful sounding to Bilbo than the last. Kili actually pales. 

“Never mind,” Fili says, taking hold of Kili’s arm and tugging him the direction of the cave entrance. Kili bobs his head and they vanish through the hole. Bilbo stares after them, amused for a moment before he turns his head back in the direction of Thorin, intrigued. He watches Thorin on and off for the next several minutes until Thorin catches him at it, and then he scurries in after Fili and Kili. 

Bilbo spends the majority of the rest of the evening wondering about Thorin and his motives, mostly to avoid thinking about Madge or the rest of the company. He sets about mending all the packs and clothes that need tending with Bifur, who is one of the few dwarves that seems content to leave him be, while Madge plays with Fili and Kili on the other side of the cave. The slight distance is not the most comfortable feeling in the world, but it’s not too intense or painful. However, Bilbo feels his resolve to be angry waning, and can tell that she feels the same. When it comes time to bed down for the night he hold the corner of his blanket up and she slips inside, curling up under his arm. 

“You were right,” he tells her very quietly, so only she can hear. 

“So were you to an extent, we can’t leave things with Lindir and Fanyamar the way they are,” she whispers back, pressing closer. 

“We’ll take care of it on the way home,” Bilbo mumbles, and falls asleep, thinking that the worst part of their trip through the mountains had passed. 

The atmosphere of the company in the morning is distinctly less tense than it had been the day before. “I had no idea that we would affect things so much,” Madge comments mildly, cleaning herself even though she’s just going to get filthy all over again. 

Bilbo shrugs. “They’re not used to seeing daemons at all, and I think some of them still think we’re the same person.” Madge jumps into his arms and they set out, bringing up the rear of the line, but it doesn’t take long for Fili and Kili to come for them. 

“Bilbo!” 

“And Madge!” 

“Together again,” they say in unison, both grinning. 

Madge laughs. “Did you practice that?” 

“A bit,” Kili shrugs. “We were worried about you.” 

She flicks her tail. “I can tell.” 

“Of course you can,” Fili says grandly. “Anyway, I don’t know if Bilbo told you-” 

“Which is something we’ve never had to worry about before, can I just say,” Kili interjects, giving them both disapproving looks. 

Fili elbows him in the stomach. “ _Told you_ that we had a question yesterday.” 

Madge looks up at Bilbo. “He didn’t.” 

Bilbo snorts. “Well I didn’t think it was a real question, I thought you were just trying to get information.” 

Fili tilts his head, trying and failing to look innocent. “Well, that’s sort of like a question anyway.” 

Kili does it slightly more successfully. “Right, but we actually do have a real question.” 

Bilbo rolls his eyes, something he had never used to do very often until he got to know them. “Ok, what is it then?” 

Kili raises his hand towards Madge but Fili smacks it back down. “When we were in Rivendell Kili thinks that he saw Bofur touch Madge,” Fili says carefully. 

“I did see it,” Kili insists, glaring at his brother. 

Fili shakes his head. “You didn’t though, because Bilbo already told us that-” 

“Stop,” Madge says, and they both quiet immediately. Bilbo has to stifle a laugh as they both stare down at her, completely engaged. She straightens up in Bilbo’s arms, and he holds her a bit higher, putting her a little closer to eye level for them, but not quite. “You’re both right. Bofur touched me very briefly, but it was with gloves on.” 

Fili and Kili are strangely silent for several seconds. It’s a novelty Bilbo could get used to. Finally Fili, who had screwed up his face into a rather impressively confused shape, speaks. “Is that...part of it?” 

“Well,” Madge shifts uncomfortably and Bilbo holds her a bit tighter. “No, not really, but at the same time it’s not exactly wrong. There’s no rule about it as far as I know, but I don’t think that it’s something that’s really...done.” 

Fili switches to glaring up ahead to where Bofur is and Kili frowns down at her. “Did it bother you?” 

Madge hesitates, but she clearly doesn’t want to incriminate Bofur. “No, I don’t think so. We were rather upset at the time, and it was clear that he was trying to be nice and respect our rules, but it was strange.” 

“Bad strange?” 

“No, I couldn’t feel it. I’ve heard that being touched by someone’s bare hands will hurt, but I didn’t feel anything like that.” 

Kili bites his lip. “Could we…” He glances at his brother, seeming at a loss as to how to proceed delicately, which had never been one of his strengths. “Are there times when it would be ok if we touched you? Like that, without skin.” 

Madge is quiet for longer this time and Bilbo can feel her tension because he has it too. “I don’t know,” she says finally. Fili and Kili let it drop, for once seeming to understand the seriousness of the topic, but they seem disappointed, and maybe a little jealous. Kili keeps shooting dark looks at Bofur. 

Madge stays rather tense and Bilbo strokes her lightly as they walk. The taboo is no laughing matter, and ordinarily he would see no reason to try to subvert it, but without daemons of their own there’s really no way for their new friends to be close with Madge. Ultimately it’s up to her, but Bilbo can’t help but feel very divided about it himself. 

“Bilbo! Keep up!” someone calls to him. Bilbo blinks and finds himself several paces behind the rest of the group, Fili and Kili staring back at him. He must have stopped walking. 

“Ah, sorry!” He flushes and jogs to reach them, still confused in his thoughts. Madge seems to be the same way. They walk in silence for a long time, barely noticing when it starts to rain. The only thing that really pulls them out of their reverie is the sudden turn for the worse the storm takes and the even more sudden appearance of the stone giants. They both almost die, Thorin yells at them, and they end up in a stinking cave with no fire. Bilbo thinks on his previous thoughts about the turn in their fortunes bitterly, and things only get worse. 

When they wake up at the bottom of the goblins cave, Madge actually tells him that he had been right to want to stay in Rivendell. Then she passes out again. Bilbo groans and rolls in the mushroom patch to get to her, fearful that her injuries from the trolls had been irritated once again, but he can’t tell. He doesn’t get the chance to find out either, because then a creature unlike anything he had ever seen enters, quickly taking away the body of the goblin that had fallen with them. 

As soon as it’s out of sight, Bilbo scoops Madge into his arms and quickly puts her inside his shirt, tightening his belt to ensure that she doesn’t fall out. He figures that if she’s going to save him from trolls he can save her from whatever that thing was. A bit of gold glints on the floor, and Bilbo picks it up, puts it in his pocket without thinking about it. Letting the adrenaline fuel him, Bilbo follows the creature. 

The game of riddles is an awful blur of painful focus and fear, and the only moment he remembers with any clarity later is when Madge wakes up, groaning and poking her head up and out of the collar of his shirt. The creature Gollum hisses in fear and skitters away. 

“What is it? What _is_ it?” 

Bilbo keeps his sword up with one hand and holds Madge steady with the other. “Nothing you need to be concerned about,” he says, but Gollum is clearly enthralled in spite of his fear. 

Gollum inches closer, squinting up at her. “No, must tell us, precious. It is, is it?” 

“Is it what?” 

“The other us, we had one precious, yes we did.” 

Bilbo gapes, his sword dropping slightly. “Had?”

“He’s lying,” Madge hisses weakly but with real anger. Bilbo holds her with his free hand. It’s difficult because he’s shaking, but there’s no way the thing could be telling the truth. It’s impossible. 

“Not lying!” Gollum yells so harshly he sends himself into a coughing fit. “We did, we were we, we were.” Bilbo backs away, eyes wide. 

“Alright, alright,” Bilbo says placatingly, his heart racing. “Just calm down, lets have another riddle.” 

The game continues, and with Madge awake to help they win fairly quickly. It doesn’t help. The next minutes have an unreal quality to them that Bilbo will later attribute to the magic ring. He carries Madge close to his heart, sword still in hand as he follows Gollum, who is becoming increasingly upset. Finally he leads Bilbo to the exit. 

As Bilbo stumbles out onto the grass and makes a break for the direction he thinks the dwarves were heading in, he tries to forget how he had almost killed Gollum. How he would have killed him if Madge hadn’t risked their cover to whisper no. The moment grips him hard and he lets out a shuddering breath. 

“Bilbo, it’s ok,” Madge says, pressing her face against his neck. “It’s ok.” 

Bilbo shakes his head. “It’s not,” he says, but he steadies himself and picks up the pace when he hears one of the dwarves yell, thinking not for the first time that at least the worst had passed. 

He really should have known better.


	16. Deeper Lows

“Which one is his daemon?” a gruff voice says in Bilbo’s ear, clearly trying but failing to keep his voice down. Bilbo glances away from the sight of their huge host and the frankly ridiculous amount of animals that are in the general vicinity and meets Gloin’s eyes. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers back and faces Gandalf and Beorn again. There seems to be a rather tense conversation going on and he doesn’t want to miss anything. 

Gloin nudges him with his elbow. “Ask Madge.” 

Bilbo makes a face but stays facing forward this time. “Why?” 

Gloin scoffs. “Can’t she tell?”

“No, that’s a myth,” Bilbo says out the the corner of his mouth. Gandalf is looking at him expectantly now, so Bilbo tries to smile as he steps forward with Madge close at his heels. She clearly wants to keep out of sight. Her plan doesn’t last long however, for Beorn’s single booming request is to see her. Gandalf nods at them encouragingly so Bilbo picks her up carefully and cradles her to his chest carefully, hyper aware of every aspect of the huge man. It would be easy for him if he decided to hurt them. 

Beorn leans down to peer at her more closely, and Bilbo is gratified to hear his company behind him shifting and muttering in displeasure. He feels confident that if the great man tries to take her from him, they’ll at least attempt to stop him. Luckily Beorn does no such thing. 

“Good.” Beorn nods to Gandalf and turns around to start walking back towards the house. Gandalf raises his eyebrows and gestures to Bilbo to follow him, which he does as quietly as he possibly can. Gloin darts forward and sticks close to Bilbo’s side, casting glances left and right to each animal they pass, radiating curiosity and suspicion. Exasperated, Bilbo looks behind him to check on the company, knowing already that he’ll regret it. 

The flight from the goblin caves, subsequent battle, and final escape of the backs of the great eagles had been frenzied to say the least. Just thinking about facing down the pale orc, Madge standing on Thorin’s prone body and growling as fiercely as she can while Bilbo held the sword makes him shake with leftover adrenaline and fear. He holds Madge, still curled up in her arms, tighter against him as they walk. He doesn’t want to be separated from her again if he can help it, not after everything.

While they flew, Bilbo saw Anar carrying Madge by the scruff of the neck, which would have made him laugh if he hadn’t been so terrified. Then they landed on the Carrock and Thorin had hugged him, Madge squished between them, and proclaimed that he had been wrong. It made Bilbo’s heart pound with strong emotion, overcome. It had been an emotional high point for all of them, bust especially for Bilbo, and the resultant comedown had arrived swiftly and left him pensive and quiet, not to mention quick to fall asleep, Madge curled under his arm. 

It was when Bilbo awoke the next day that he began to notice what he sees now when he looks behind him to the company as they follow Beorn. Several of them are acting rather oddly. Thorin avoids his gaze entirely despite what Bilbo had taken to be a clear positive change in their relationship. He says as much to Madge on the way up the hill. 

“Perhaps he is just focused on other matters,” Madge says, quietly when she sees him looking, and Bilbo nods. Thorin hadn’t spoken much to anyone since their descent from the carrock except to delegate camp duties. At his side, Balin is visibly murmuring advice and casting glances to the rest of the company much like Bilbo is. He catches Bilbo’s eyes and gives him a brief smile, which Bilbo appreciates very much. 

Dwalin, on the other hand, is already looking directly at Bilbo. Madge reported several times that he had been staring at them intensly for the better part of the day with seemingly no explanation. For the life of him Bilbo doesn’t understand it, thinking only that he must have offended the dwarf in some way during the past hours. Conversely, Bilbo has to search to find Bofur, who is bringing up the rear and looks uncharacteristically subdued, which is also worrying. Of course, it’s possible that it all has to do with Nori. Even Fili and Kili are solemn. 

Dori has his hand wrapped tightly around Nori’s arm, guiding him forward. Ori hovers at his side, eyes red rimmed and fixed on his brother. They’re somewhat in the center of the moving group, as though the company had formed a protective ring around the three brothers as they walked. Nori himself is pale and silent, his hands wrapped so tightly around the two pieces of his broken staff that his knuckles stand out visibly white. He’s so cut off from everything around him that he doesn’t catch Bilbo looking like it seems he always does, but Bilbo looks away again anyway, feeling embarrassed and sad in equal measure. 

Madge climbs to Bilbo’s shoulder to whisper in his ear. “Do you think he’ll be alright? The Gathol can be replaced right?” Her voice is tight with worry. 

Bilbo shrugs slightly. Her presence is a comfort to him, he doesn’t know what he would do if were even possible for her to be gone, or broken. The image of the creature Gollum floats through his mind and he banishes it quickly, laying a hand on her in comfort. “I don’t know.” 

They are led to a large and lovely house, which is obviously scaled for Beorn and full of animals. Bilbo is reminded of the wizard Radagast who seemed to have animals everywhere on his person. Gandalf settles against the wall by the door as the company streams into the house, already fishing his pipe out of his sleeve. Bilbo stays close to his side, watching as Thorin follows Beorn deeper into the house and the rest of the company disperses. He tries not to watch at all as Nori slips out the back door and disappears. 

Gandalf sighs and starts to light his pipe. “At least now we have a bit of respite.” 

“Will we be welcome here Gandalf?” Madge asks, scrambling up to Bilbo’s shoulder. 

“I believe we already are.” Gandalf gestures to the room around them with his pipe, which is now mostly full of animals with serving dishes. Several of the dwarves seem torn between wariness and gratitude, not unlike they were when Bilbo and Madge first joined. 

Bilbo smiles, then he frowns. “Do you think Nori would benefit from some food as well or should we leave him alone for now?” 

Gandalf shakes his head sadly. “I would leave him be. Let him work through his grief in peace until he feels ready to come back.” 

Madge presses closer to Bilbo. “We felt the same when Mama and Papa died.” 

Bilbo rests a hand on her. “Yes but we had each other. Dwarves are always alone.” 

“Not always,” Gandalf says and nods towards Ori and Dori who are making their way across the house with food and other things of comfort in their arms. They follow Nori through the back door. “And you’ll find that it’s often loved ones that know what’s best, not ourselves.” 

Madge and Bilbo share a look. “I suppose you’re right, but I still can’t imagine it,” she says and Gandalf nods again. He walks away without another word, in that mysterious way of his and they watch him leave, intercepting Beorn on his way out the front door. Bilbo glances to the right, but doesn’t see Thorin come back yet.

“Should we get some sun?” he asks, for Madge’s ears only, and starts walking towards the door as well, already knowing what her response will be. She hums and curls closer to him as they move. 

“Not that we need it after all the walking we’ve been doing.” 

“True, but this will be relaxing, and that has certainly been in short supply.” 

Passing through door and by three dogs with an unnatural amount of intelligence in their eyes, they find and settle beneath a large tree with high branches. Bilbo sighs, leaning back against the trunk with his feet sticking out with Madge stretched out next to him. The sun drifts through the green leaves, only just turning slightly lighter at the tips. 

“This is nice,” she says, arching her back. Smiling, Bilbo reaches down to pet her, and his other hand goes to his hip, then slides up to his pocket. Madge looks up. “What’s that?”

Bilbo looks down and fishes the ring out of his pocket. It sits heavy in his hand. “Oh. Just the ring we found.” 

“Hm. I had forgotten it.” Madge moves from the ground to his lap and peers at it. “Did it turn me invisible too?”

“No,” Bilbo says, turning it around and around in his hand. “I could still see you.”

She tilts her head and leans closer. “But that thing didn’t. Or at least he didn’t seem to.” 

“Oh right.” Bilbo frowns. “Well that makes sense actually, because I could still see myself, and all my clothes. Perhaps you were invisible after all.” 

“But I was touching you, so maybe that was it.” 

“Maybe.” Bilbo slips the ring onto his finger without another thought and feels the slight shift in atmosphere wash over him. He picks Madge up and sets her on the ground, away from him. “Only one way to find out.” 

“I could talk to someone,” Madge says, and then snickers. “I hope I’m not invisible, that would give them a scare.” 

Bilbo rolls his eyes. “Yes, but then we would have to tell them.”

“Why couldn’t we?” Madge asks, but she sounds unsure of herself. 

“We could,” Bilbo says, his gaze dropping down to the ring wrapped around his finger. It feels right. “But we don’t have to, and why should we?”

“Agreed,” Madge answers quickly. “I’ll just check if they can see me or not. If they do I’ll say you’re just on the other side of the tree and you can take the ring off.” 

Bilbo leans over to glance around the tree trunk at the ever growing group of dwarves near the house. “We’re too far away.” 

She’s already moving. “I’ll make myself obvious. Bifur will wave to me no matter what, even at a distance.” 

Bilbo shrugs and watches her move into the open sun. To him she seems perfectly visible, she even has a shadow, and he finds himself doubting that it will work. Madge suddenly starts running around in circles, making a display of herself. None of the dwarves looks up. She turns back around to send a questioning look to Bilbo who shrugs again, still leaning around the tree. 

“Try making a noise,” he suggests and she turns back around. Madge puts herself low to the ground and growls, and animal sort of sound that she doesn’t usually make. Dwalin and Kili both look up and she jumps to her feet again, the sort of sudden movement that should attract their attention, but it doesn’t. Emboldened, she stalks closer and closer to them on silent paws until there’s no question that they should see her, but they’ve already lost interest. 

Bilbo watches her with interest and some unease, though he can’t pinpoint why until he finds himself squinting to look at her. He gasps, feeling like his stomach had just dropped to the ground, and scrambles to his feet, running around the side of the tree. “Madge!” Bilbo hisses, both as loudly and as quietly as he can. 

Madge looks over her shoulder, now at least ten feet farther than she had ever been from him before without considerable pain, and freezes, eyes wide. Then she shoots back to him, all thought of experiments and rings forgotten. Bilbo scoops her up before she has the chance to jump and holds her against his chest, shaking with fear and the memory of pain. 

“What was that?”

“I don't know, how-” 

Bilbo sticks his hand out in front of him, shifting Madge’s weight to one arm. “That was- it must have been this. That’s how you went so far.” 

“Take it off.” She bats at his hand with her front paw. “I never want to do that again. I won’t.” 

“Did it hurt you?”

“No.” 

“Me either,” Bilbo says, still staring at it. Despite the horrifying nature of what had just happened, he couldn’t help but admit that it had been interesting. He turns to hand and the ring glints in the sun. “I wonder what the limit is.” 

“Lets not find out,” Madge says and Bilbo looks at her, surprised. She’s usually the one to urge him to do the investigating. 

“It could help us in the future.” 

She narrows her eyes. “I suppose.” 

“Well,” Bilbo walks back around the tree, out of sight, and pulls the ring off. He slips it back into his pocket, forgetting until the last second to check to see if anyone’s watching on this side too, which luckily they aren’t. “We don’t have to do anything more for now.” 

Madge makes a sound like a grunt and flicks her tail. “Good,” she sounds furious, and Bilbo scrambles for a distraction. 

“Let’s go see if we can find a river around here, or a pond, there has to be one close by,” Bilbo suggests, feeling guilty. Madge always liked looking at the water. 

“Good idea.” She perks up right away, jumping from his arms to the ground and taking off in what seems to be a random direction. Bilbo quickly follows her, not wanting to be separated from her even a little bit. 

They walk around the side of the house and towards the lower ground, trailing through a field of wildflowers. Beorn’s property, if it does indeed belong to him, is beautiful. There are not only several large trees and many types of flowers, but a variety of quiet wildlife scattered around. It almost feels like home, except with far fewer bothersome neighbors. Bilbo lets the atmosphere relax him, and can feel Madge relaxing in turn, putting the strange incident behind her. 

When they find the stream, they also find Thorin sitting by it. He is alone and quiet, his sword by his side. Bilbo hesitates and feels Madge lean against his ankle, unsure of their relationship and of Thorin's moods after everything that had happened, but before he can decide to continue or to turn around and go back Thorin spots him. 

His expression livens up immediately and he gestures Bilbo over to him. “Bilbo, I was looking for you.” 

“Me?” Bilbo tilts his head but approaches him without nervousness, emboldened by his reaction and the memory of his kind words on the Carrock. “I would have thought you would look for Nori.” 

A dark look crosses Thorin’s face, though Bilbo suspects it’s truly more sadness than the anger it seems to be. Many of Thorin’s expressions are like that. “Eventually yes, I will go to him but not now.” 

“Is it too soon?” Madge asks and jumps up onto the rock Thorin is sitting on. Bilbo picks her up and sits down in her place. Thorin smiles at them. 

“Yes, that is essentially the issue.” 

Madge settles herself on Bilbo’s lap. “At least we’re here and not still on the run.” 

“ _Madge_ ” Bilbo frowns down at her but Thorin shake his head. 

“She’s not wrong. Obviously it should never have happened, but it did and it’s good for him to be able to heal, even if it’s in a place such as this.” 

It’s Bilbo’s turn to frown at Thorin now. “What’s wrong with this place? It’s lovely here and very peaceful.” 

“It is not wrong, or rather, it is not evil or dangerous. But it is not right either.” Thorin gestures to the trees. “This is not our place, not the mountains that feel right to us. Nori should have living stone under his feet, the support of the entire mountain, a proper forge try to repair the damage that has been done to him. To be homeless, exposed under the open sky and vulnerable, while at the same time suffering a blow such as this is...not ideal.” 

Bilbo blinks. He’s not sure if he had ever heard Thorin say so much when he was talking to him and Madge. He usually kept his words fairly short. 

“Is that how you-” Madge starts to say but Bilbo lays a firm hand on her, mortified. 

He desperately tries to repair the damage. “Oh, uh-” 

But Thorin nods, striking Bilbo silent, his eyes still fixed on the river. “Yes. That is how I felt.” 

Bilbo tries not to make a bad face, tries not to even move. “I’m sorry.” 

“Thank you,” Thorin says near tonelessly. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bilbo asks, feeling like an idiot. Thorin makes a face but doesn’t deny it so Bilbo presses slightly. “Did your previous Gathol have a name?” 

Thorin sighs, a quick rush of breath that seems to shrink him. “Yes. Maybe one day I will tell it to you.” 

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be. I would consider us friends now, you had the right to ask, I simply don’t want...” He trails off, but then he seems to brighten. “In any case these things have a way of repairing if one is strong enough to fight through it. That is part of why I was looking for you.” 

“Really?” Bilbo asks, nervous again. Thorin nods and lifts Orcrist up. It shines in the light, catching Bilbo’s attention. Then, to his shock, Thorin rotates it, offering Bilbo the hilt. 

“Here. Hold it,” Thorin says and Bilbo gapes at him for a moment before remembering himself. 

“Of course, I uh-” He takes it, determined not to drop it. It looks heavy and it is, much larger than Sting, and more detailed. Not to mention sharp. Madge, who had been very quiet, edges out of his lap, putting herself between the two warm bodies instead. 

“Thank you,” Bilbo says, even though he’s not sure what he’s thanking him for exactly. Likely something to do with Dwarven culture, but Bilbo can’t hazard a guess as to what. 

“You are welcome,” Thorin sounds pleased and Bilbo smiles at him before looking back at the sword, determined to admire it properly. Which is probably why he doesn’t see Thorin move at first, doesn’t know to stop him before his fingers brush lightly over the line of Madge’s spine until he almost does it. Luckily Madge is paying better attention. 

“No!” she hisses, sliding to the ground and scrambling around to Bilbo’s other side before Thorin can touch her. Her tail looks like an old feather duster, nearly tripled in size, and her eyes are narrowed to slits. Bilbo scoops her up and jumps to his feet, putting some distance between them. Thorin’s eyes are wide. 

“Bilbo?” Thorin doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, still sitting with his hand outstretched. His expression seems to be confused between offended anger and nervous amusement. 

“Thorin,” Bilbo says, his sword still dangling from one hand, Madge clutched to his chest with the other. “You, uh, really shouldn’t try to- you shouldn’t-”

“Don’t touch me!” Madge hisses again, he fur still on end. Thorin’s expression darkens. 

“So it is fine for others to do so but not me?” he demands, his anger building along with Madge’s. Bilbo rocks back a step, heart pounding. 

“It is never fine, you could hurt us!” Bilbo yells, suddenly furious as well. He can easily imagine it, doubling over, gripped by a pain that has no source, located somewhere deep in his mind and crawling over his skin. The sword dropping from his hand, hitting the ground on the side of the blade. Bilbo wouldn’t notice, his vision clouding and then rushing back into focus in an instant, the pain gone as rapidly as it had hit. 

He can see himself scrambling up, gasping and searching for her blindly, finding her climbing up his leg. In his mind he drops down to pick her up, their breathing matched in rate and now receding fear as Thorin stares at them with the same wide eyes he’s looking at Bilbo with now. 

“Hurt you?” Much of the anger seems to leave Thorin’s frame. “What do you mean? I heard Fili and Kili saying that Bofur had touched her. I assumed it was simply a matter of closeness.” 

“Well that is the problem with assumptions. It’s not,” Bilbo says very carefully, still nervous. He glances down at Madge but she has curled herself into a ball so tight he can’t even tell where her face is. “It’s a matter of pain, of...wrongness. I have never touched another’s daemon, not even my parents’. It would harm them to put my hands on their soul.” 

Thorin tilts his head, clearly considering this, and then eyes narrow, almost like Madge. “Bofur harmed you?” he asks, his tone dangerous. 

“No,” Bilbo answers quickly. “He was careful not to touch her with his bare skin.” 

“And that is allowed.” 

Bilbo makes a face. “It’s not...disallowed. At the time we didn’t think too much of it but...” he trails off, at a loss. He never expected any of this to escalate the way that it had. 

Thorin scowls and looks away. “I will speak to him.” 

Bilbo winces, thinking of Bofur and his easy smiles and good intentions. “It’s alright, I don’t want him to be yelled at for something he didn’t mean to do.” 

Thorin raises an eyebrow at him. “No, of course not. You only want to yell at me.” 

“I don’t _want_ to yell at you Thorin. I don’t want any of this-” He gestures to the space between them with his free hand, realizing halfway through that he’s still holding Thorin’s sword. “Oh, here.” He tries to hand to back to him but Thorin waves him off. 

“I had intended for you to care for it, a gesture among friends, among fellow warriors.” He glances down at Madge. “I did not mean to give offense.” 

Bilbo sighs, the strain of it all catching up to him. “Neither did I.”

Thorin shakes his head. “It seems we are always at odds. For dwarves, caring for another’s Gathol is a great honor and a sign of love or respect, but obviously it is not the same for hobbits. I apologize.” He inclines his head. 

Bilbo’s eyebrows shoot up. “A real apology? You must really mean it then.” 

“I do.” Thorin smiles and Bilbo wants to forgive him, struggling against opposing urges. Thorin gestures to the rock again. “Will you sit?” 

For a moment, Bilbo is quiet, trying to make himself agree. Madge shifts in his arms. He sighs and holds Orcrist out to Thorin again, who takes it this time. 

“Do you remember when I offended you many times in the beginning of the journey, and even though you knew I wasn’t doing it on purpose it still bothered you and you needed time?” 

Thorin sighs, still smiling slightly, but he nods. “Yes.”

Bilbo nods back. “I know you didn’t mean it, and perhaps it’s unfair but...this is one of those times.” 

Thorin makes a long-suffering face but doesn’t argue. “I understand,” he says, even though Bilbo is fairly sure that he doesn’t. 

“Thank you,” Bilbo manages, and Thorin turns away. Feeling guilty, Bilbo makes himself step forward to put his hand on Thorin’s shoulder. “Really. Maybe we can try this again tomorrow?”

Thorin frowns, but he nods again. Bilbo manages a slight smile, then he slips away. He makes his way back through the flowers, back towards the house and the tree. He can hear the voices of his other friends. Madge uncurls almost right away, laying her head in the crook of his elbow. 

“That was close,” Bilbo murmurs, just to get her to talk again. He isn’t sure she will, not after the second stressful event of her day, but then she does. 

“Do you think that’s what it feels like to lose a Gathol?” Madge asks, her tail flicking back and forth. “The fear?” 

Bilbo holds her tighter and looks back at Thorin, still sitting by the water. “I hope not.”


	17. Burgeoning Light

The next day, Bilbo and Madge rise early and head outside immediately after eating. Some of the company is already up, mainly the older members, but everyone seems content to simply exist in the same space, minding their own business. For the most part. 

“Burglar.” 

Bilbo turns, a sense of dread building in his stomach at the sound of Dwalin’s loud voice. Apparently the one-sided staring contest that he and Madge had unwillingly been a part of had come to an end. He braces himself for whatever Dwalin could possibly have to say and feels Madge do the same. 

“Yes?” Bilbo asks, keeping his gaze even, though he strongly suspects he’s about to be yelled at for something. Maybe Thorin spoke to him about the previous day’s events. 

“I looked for you yesterday but I did not see you.” Dwalin steps closer. “I wish to thank you for defending Thorin’s life, and the lives of the rest of the company.” 

Bilbo blinks, caught off guard. “Oh, I see.” He shares a confused glance with Madge. 

Dwalin continues, as nonplussed as ever. “You showed true bravery, that is no small thing. I would count you as a friend.” 

“Both of us?” Madge asks, teasing. 

Dwalin smiles but answers her seriously. “Yes.” 

Bilbo banishes the strangeness and focuses on the good. “Well, in that case we are glad to accept, and of course we consider you our friend as well.” Madge nods along with his words, and Dwalin nods back, still serious. 

“Good,” Dwalin says, and Bilbo almost expects him to leave now that he had finished what he had apparently been trying to do for days, but instead he reaches out and takes hold of Bilbo’s arm. Bilbo winces in advance, having seen enough of his company to know what to expect, but Dwalin only taps their foreheads together for a brief moment before letting go, smirking. 

“Did you think I was going to bash your skull in?”

Bilbo laughs, relieved and amused all at once. “Perhaps a bit, I’ve seen how you say hello to your brother!” 

Dwalin laughs loudly, throwing his head back. Bilbo laughs harder too, pulled in by Dwalin’s enthusiasm. From across the yard, Balin looks up. 

“What are you two doing over there?” he calls out, a piece of twisted metal in his hand. Bilbo smiles and waves, not intending to go over to him until Dwalin physically pulls him along on his way to his brother. Bilbo follows bemusedly, not really having much of a choice, and Madge trails along at his heels. 

“Hello Balin, what have you get there?” Madge asks when they get close enough. 

Balin smiles down at her. “I am fixing something for our host. He is a good craftsman for not being a Dwarf, but we can take care of many things for him more easily.” 

“I should have had you take a look at my wheelbarrow,” Bilbo jokes, but Dwalin shoots him a serious look. 

“Yes you should have,” he comments, but does not elaborate. Bilbo glances back at Balin, the familiar feeling of being lost settling on him again. Balin smiles. 

“It is typical but not required. My brother simply has an overdeveloped sense of what it means to be a good guest.” 

“Well, that is very important,” Bilbo insists and Dwalin nods at him. Madge laughs. 

“I wouldn’t have thought that it would be Bilbo and Dwalin to have the most similar view on anything, but here we are.” 

Dwalin smiles at her. “As I said, we are similar. This is why we are friends.” He turns to Bilbo. “Do you want to hold Grasper while I sharper Keeper?” 

Bilbo blinks up at him. “I…don’t know what that means.” 

Balin laughs and Dwalin smirks, holding up one of his twin axes. “Grasper.” He raises the other. “Keeper.” 

“Oh! Of course,” Bilbo says, mortified at missing something that probably should have been very obvious, especially after the events of the day before. He holds out both hands and Dwalin puts one of the Gathol into them with an eye roll. Bilbo glances away, feeling touched and awkward at the same time yet again, and spots Thorin in the trees. Nori stands next to him, his eyes directed at the ground. Several feet away, Ori is clearly waiting for them to be finished. Bilbo watches, trying not to give himself away. He wonders what Thorin can possibly say to make Nori feel better, though he supposes Thorin could get the closest out of everyone else. 

“Are you staring at Ori?” Madge asks, breaking the silence. No doubt to get him to stop intruding on a private moment as well. “Balin just mentioned that Ori has been talking about us.” 

Bilbo looks at Balin, vaguely surprised. “Really? Why is that?”

“He says you have a research project on Hobbit and Dwarf offspring,” Balin responds, visibly amused, and Bilbo laughs, embarrassed. 

“Oh, that. It’s really more like a passing curiosity.” 

“Not for the lad. He’s very excitable.” 

Dwalin snorts. “Yes. It seems he would like to be doing some practical studies on the issue.” 

Bilbo scoffs, but he can feel his face getting red at the vulgar talk. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s improper, not to mention impossible.” 

“Perhaps,” Balin says, smirking even more now. “I don’t think Ori much cares though. He clearly likes you, in a harmless way, of course.”

Madge giggles. “Oh please, he likes Bilbo, but it’s like the way he is with his brothers.” 

“No,” Dwalin says, and Balin shakes his head as well. 

“Don’t look so concerned, it’s only a passing thing,” Balin says, clearly trying to be reassuring. 

Bilbo frowns. “But we are two different species. It would not work.” Dwalin and Balin both refocus their attention on him, curiosity in their eyes. Bilbo shifts awkwardly, deeply regretting this course of conversation already. 

“Perhaps, like so many other things, it is different with Hobbits, but Dwarves respect love no matter the circumstance,” Balin says bluntly. 

Madge huffs, but there is mischief in her eyes. “What if it was a dwarf and an elf?” she challenges, getting a rise out of Dwalin right away. 

Bilbo shakes his head but keeps quiet, glad for the chance to recuse himself from this particular conversation. He looks out towards the trees again, back to Thorin, who is still talking to Nori. However, it seemed that he picked the exact wrong time to look, because within seconds Nori is stepping away and Thorin is glancing up to meet Bilbo’s gaze. A chill runs up Bilbo’s spine. He looks away, refocusing on the conversation, but he can see Thorin approaching out of the corner of his eye. 

“Hello,” Thorin says when he gets close enough, sitting down next to Balin and Bilbo without being asked. 

“Hello,” Bilbo responds politely and Thorin nods, then he looks at Madge, who has yet to look at him, her face resolutely turned in Balin’s direction despite the fact that he isn’t speaking anymore. 

“She’s not really that angry,” Bilbo says hurriedly, trying to smooth things over. 

“Yes, I am,” she responds freshly, just to be contrary. At her side, Dwalin snorts. 

“Well,” Thorin responds, and Bilbo is relieved to see that he’s hiding a slight smile. He’s fairly certain that they’ve left the period of fighting behind, but Thorin has always been difficult to predict. “I have brought you something to show you truth of my regret.” He says, which Bilbo thinks is an odd phrase until he gets distracted by the object in Thorin’s hand. It appears to be a small metal coil with a bead at each end. 

The sight of it seems to mollify her and she sits up straighter. “It’s lovely.”

“What is it?” Bilbo asks, coking his head to the side. 

“I would say a cat toy for the Miss,” Dwalin laughs, pointedly ignoring Thorin’s glare. 

“It is a bracelet for Madge. I don’t know if it is typical for daemons to wear jewelry,” he says, obstinately ignoring both Bilbo and Balin when they shake their heads. “I thought that she might like to be the first.” 

Judging by the inquisitive look in her eyes, Bilbo is willing to bet that she would. Thorin seems to think so too, because his smile finally make an appearance. “Shall I give it to Bilbo to put it on you?” 

“Please,” Madge says, holding out her paw to wait. Bilbo takes the cat-sized bracelet, trying not to seem too outwardly amused, but Thorin catches on to him right away. 

“You shouldn’t laugh Mr. Baggins, we Dwarves have long been the leaders of innovation of the world.”

“Yes I can see it now, odd Bilbo Baggins and his oddly decorated daemon,” Bilbo gripes, but he slips the metal coil onto her forepaw without further complaint. He frowns. “Won’t it fall off?”

Thorin’s hand comes up and then freezes. He lowers it back down slowly, a line appearing between his eyebrows. “It is flexible, so it will be adjustable. Press the beads in.” 

Bilbo smiles at him as he follows his instructions. “Not used to not being able to adjust your own work?”

“No.”

“Well then if this does indeed become a trend, we will have to make sure there are reminders, so as to avoid the need for this kind of apology gift. When did you even have time to make it?”

Thorin frowns. “Last night, after we spoke. It was not difficult.” 

“Yes but, Balin has been fixing Beorn’s metal workings too, are you all just carrying around various pieces of metal and tools everywhere you go?” 

“Yes,” Thorin says as though this is perfectly obvious and he directs his attention back to Madge. “Do you like it?”

She lifts her paw off the ground again, shaking it lightly. The bracelet doesn’t move. “I’m not sure, but I think it’s only because I am not used to wearing this sort of thing.”

“Or anything,” Dwalin comments. Balin smacks him on the arm with the side of a hammer. 

“In any case, I do like it, and I forgive you Thorin.”

He inclines his head to her, and Bilbo feels a wave of fondness towards both of them that’s interrupted by Dwalin poking him in the side. He jumps. “What?”

Dwalin raises an eyebrow. “Stop making eyes and pay attention. Next axe.” 

***

That night at dinner, Bilbo sits with Dwalin at his request, near the head of the table. Fili and Kili seem the most pleased by the development, but Thorin keeps looking at Bilbo when he think he won’t notice. Nori is at the extreme other end of the long table, sitting in silence while the others pretend that everything is normal, attempting to carry on like nothing had changed. Madge is making a game out of being the one to carry and push things down to each end of the table much to the Dwarves amusement. Ori laughs the loudest, casting glances at Nori every few seconds. Bilbo winces as she accidentally gets butter on her nose, it’s all terribly unsanitary, but it make the side of Nori’s mouth quirk so he supposes it’s worth it. He catches Gandalf’s eye, sitting in between Oin and Bombur and looking quite ridiculous, and they share a sad look before Gandalf brightens again, turning to listen to Dori’s story about the the time a trader had tried to swindle him out of a set of dinnerware. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin says, too casually, and Bilbo turns towards him with the expectation of exasperation already creeping up his spine. He wishes they could stop dancing around each other so much, however he has to admit that it is a great improvement from mutual dislike. 

“Yes?” 

“I am assigning you to the first watch tonight.” 

Bilbo blinks at him, puzzled. “Alright,” he says after a long pause. 

Thorin raises an eyebrow at him. “I recall that you wanted the opportunity to be given a watch shift.” 

“I did,” Bilbo says, wondering if he should bring up the circumstances of the previous conversation Thorin is referring to, but deciding against it. The dinner table is hardly the place, which might have been the reason for Thorin making the offer here. It’s almost something one of his relatives would do. “Thank you.” 

Thorin sits up a little straighter. “Of course, now that you have proved yourself.” 

Bilbo bites the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something back, dinner table or not. He reminds himself that Thorin is trying to be nice, even if he is exceedingly bad at it. It would be an improvement if he actually succeeded, but, Bilbo supposes, one day at a time. He lets it go, choosing instead to check on Madge again. She’s currently perched between Fili and Kili, down on the bench, and seems to be keeping a careful eye on both their water glasses. Towards the end of dinner, which Bilbo still maintains is much shorter than it should be, certainly no Hobbit would ever have a dinner so short that involves that many guests, Madge makes her way back to Bilbo. 

“Having fun?” he asks her as she climbs up to his shoulders. 

“Yes. Also Bofur wants to talk to us after dinner.” 

Bilbo glances in Bofur’s direction and he can sense Thorin doing the same, no doubt because he had been eavesdropping. Bofur nods to Bilbo with a smile, though it’s slighter than Bilbo is used to seeing from him. Bilbo nods back, hoping he’ll get some answers about his friend’s strange moods these past few days. Thorin grunts. “Good.” 

Bilbo turns back to him with narrowed eyes, ready to violate any and all table manners. “Did you do something?” he asks, thankful that the room is still very loud, as all Dwarf dinner parties seem to be.

Thorin lifts his chin. “I spoke to him.” 

“I asked you not to.” 

Thorin frowns at him, like he can’t decide why that would matter, so Bilbo scoffs and excuses himself. He pauses to thank Beorn for the meal and then makes for the back door with Madge still draped around his neck like a scarf to wait for Bofur somewhere that Thorin isn’t. He doesn’t have long to wait. 

Bofur finds him easily, and they walk out to the fields in silence, which is worrying enough all on it’s own. “Is everything alright?” Bilbo asks, setting Madge on the ground to walk. 

“I hope so.” 

Bilbo frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Bofur sighs. “I hear I’ve caused quite the stir. I’m sorry.” 

“Thorin said something to you.” Bilbo sighs as well. “I didn’t mean for you to get in trouble.” 

“Well I didn’t mean to encourage Thorin to nearly hurt you, but it is what it is.” 

Bilbo tilts his head but he doesn’t pretend not to know what he’s talking about. “I’m not actually sure you did anything wrong.” 

“I don’t think you did. Not technically,” Madge says, though she sounds confused about it too, and her tail is whipping back and forth in nervous agitation. 

Bofur clearly notices this. “Not technically, but do you want me to avoid doing it again?”

Bilbo and Madge share a look. “I...for now yes.” 

Bofur nods, seeming a bit sad but pleased overall that they talked. He shakes his head. “So much hardship. I just don’t want you to ever feel like you have to compromise yourself because you’re traveling with a bunch of old Dwarves.” 

On instinct, Bilbo slings his arm around Bofur’s shoulders, like he would with a Hobbit in this type of situation, not that he had ever experienced that before. “Bofur, I have never felt this kind of closeness with another of his my kind before, apart from my family. If I am becoming more Dwarf-like, so be it.” 

Bofur grins. “Oh really?” 

Bilbo winces, know before it happens what Bofur is going to do. It doesn’t help. Bofur’s forehead colliding with his own makes even Madge jump. “Ow!” she cries, over dramatically, and Bofur feigns pushing her over with the toe of his boot. She giggles. Bilbo smiles too, with his hand pressed to his throbbing forehead. 

“I’m not so sure the Dwarf life is right for you two,” he teases them. 

Bilbo rolls his eyes. “Well I could certainly do without that part.” 

“Aye, though you don’t mind all of it I reckon.” 

“What do you mean?”

“You and Thorin of course.” 

Bilbo’s eyebrows shoot up. “Pardon?”

“Oh come now it’s been plain as day there’s something going on between you two.” 

“There is not!” Bilbo says, the stress and embarrassment making his voice rather higher and louder than he had intended. 

Bofur laughs. “Relax, I’m only teasing.” They’ve circled back around to the main house now, the light from the lamps catching on Madge’s little bracelet. 

“Well I’ll have you know-” Bilbo starts but cuts himself off when the door opens suddenly and collides with the wall. 

“I can’t find him!” Ori cries as he bursts from the house, Dori following behind, stone faced. 

“Nori?” Bofur asks, though they all already know. Bilbo scans the trees and spots him immediately, his keen Hobbit sight making it simple. He knows Madge sees him too, though she isn’t looking in his direction anymore. Bilbo carefully keeps on pretending to look, remembering a time when his parents had died, and all he wanted to do was sit with Madge by the river and be alone. 

Ori is working himself into a frenzy. “We have to find him! He can’t be-” 

Bilbo lays a hand on Ori’s shoulder. “He’ll be alright. This area is safe, and he won’t go far. He probably just needs some space is all.” 

Madge jumps up onto a barrel, effectively drawing Ori’s gaze away from the trees. “He’s right. You’ve done a good job Ori. Your brother knows that you’re here for him when he needs you, but he’ll tell you when that is.” 

Ori is twisting the hem of his sweater into an unrecognizable mess. He casts a desperate glance at Dori, who sighs. “They’re right, I’ve been trying to tell you.” 

“Let all go back inside!” Bofur says and physically ushers Ori back towards the house, throwing a meaningful look in Bilbo’s direction as he goes. 

Bilbo shakes his head, remembering. “I’m on watch tonight.” 

Bofur’s eyebrows shoot up but he doesn’t comment further, too occupied with Ori. Bilbo turns to leave, but Dori catches him by the arm. He turns back, confused. Dori is frowning at him. Bilbo pales. “Oh, I only meant to-”

“Thank you.” Dori lets him go, turning around to go inside too. 

Bilbo blinks at his back, wondering when his life became so very dramatic. He shares a look with Madge and catches her when she jumps from the barrel to his arms. Together they head towards the watch spot to settle in for the next few hours. 

“Wonderful,” Bilbo gripes, sitting down on a rock facing the mountains. 

Madge huffs, turning around on his lap. “You asked for this.”

“Don’t put this all on me, you wanted to be taken seriously too,” Bilbo says, but he’s distracted by the sight of a figure moving in the trees, short with ostentatious hair. He averts his gaze to give him some privacy, but Nori heads in his direction. Bilbo doesn’t stare, but looks up when Nori gets close. 

Nori nods to him as he passes, heading in the direction of the house. 

“Goodnight Nori.” Bilbo nods back. 

“Goodnight,” Nori replies quietly, the first time in days Bilbo had heard him speak. He disappears from view, leaving Bilbo with the mountains and Madge. The company will move on soon, possibly within the next few days. Sighing, he holds her tighter, wondering what’s in store for them next. 

The sensation of being watched sends a chill up his spine, and he turns, expecting Nori again. It is as normal a thing to want quiet company as it is to want solitude in situations like this, but instead he sees Thorin leaning against the outer wall of the house. Bilbo smiles on reflex, even though he’s rather annoyed at their esteemed leader on several accounts. Thorin briefly smiles back, and then turns and disappears back into the house. Bilbo turns back around and starts humming to himself, the melody picking up when Madge quietly joins in. It’s an old farmer’s work song from the Shire, but somehow it seems appropriate, even fitting, on the other side of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr if you want :)  
> http://paradiamond.tumblr.com/


	18. Descending Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am well aware of how long it's been. Sorry! Hope you enjoy this update anyway!

They catch Thorin staring rather frequently. Granted, there’s not much to do in the forest of Mirkwood, but Bilbo feels that the rules of common courtesy should be followed nonetheless. He keeps his face resolutely turned away, and focuses on the scenery, terrible and dark as it is. Every sight is worse than the last, dank and sinister and made all the worse by Gandalf’s absence. Bilbo doesn’t need Thorin’s confusing behavior on top of it. 

“Are we still mad at him?” Madge whispers in his ear, perched up on his shoulders. 

Bilbo snorts. “When are we ever not?” 

She snickers and casts an unsubtle look in Thorin’s direction. 

“Having a fight with our intrepid leader?” Bofur asks from the left, visibly amused. 

Bilbo shrugs, earning a disgruntled snort from Madge. “Not really. It only his meddling and generally overbearing personality.” 

“Ah only that.” Bofur nods, falsely serious. 

Bilbo smiles slightly, matching his unusually subdued demeanor. They’re all quiet in the forest. Even Dwalin, who seems to be making a point of behaving normally, is shouting with less vigor, casting more glances to the rear. 

For his part, Bilbo had been sticking close to Bofur, and it seems that Nori is sticking close to him and Madge, so they have a dwarf on either side, which suits just fine under the unrelenting the terror of the trees. 

In the days leading up to their departure from Beorn’s, Nori had been their frequent, if mostly silent, companion. He spent most of his time hovering near Bilbo and rummaging around in his bag, occasionally pulling out tools other odd ends. Though it isn’t completely clear to Bilbo what he’s doing, he suspects that he’d been trying and failing to make a new Gathol without the proper supplies. Madge had taken it in stride, and Bilbo strives to do the same despite the fact that he has not the first idea of how to handle the situation. 

When he asked Nori about it, Nori had sent him a side eyed look and a strange answer. “Not to offend, but you don’t understand.” 

Bilbo had frowned. “I- sorry? I could-” 

Nori waved a hand. “No, I don’t want you too. You don’t understand, so you’re not treating me like I’m going to shatter at any moment. Keep doing that and we’ll be just fine.”

“Right.” Bilbo nodded, catching sight of Ori and Dori hovering near the tree line. “Did you see those strange dogs earlier? I swear they were walking on two legs.” 

Nori continued to commandeer Bilbo and Madge for hours at a time, apparently to get away from the others, who wouldn’t stop him out of fear of causing him to get upset. Bilbo did his best to keep from understanding. Treating him like a Hobbit had been the only thing to fall back on, and so far it seems to have suited both of them well enough. 

Bilbo glances over at him as they crest a jagged hill. Some of his hair had come undone from his fantastical style, falling in little wisps along his forehead. He looks miserable, which is at least one thing Bilbo could relate to. “Think we have a chance of finding something decent for lunch?”

Behind them, Ori gasps, always dogging their steps. But Nori glances back, meeting his eye and then rolling them. “In this hole?”

Bilbo harrumphs and pulls himself up onto the first rock as Madge slips off his shoulders to lessen the weight. She darts all the way up the hill, quick as a flash, setting herself down delicately next to Fili at the top, who grins. “Lost something, Bilbo?” 

Bilbo looks down at his hands and feet to better concentrate. “Show off.” 

“She’s light on her feet,” Bofur says, clearly just to irritate him. 

Bilbo harrumphs and put one foot in front of the other. “Here maybe, but in our natural habitat I’ll have you know that I am better suited.” 

“Poor cat! Stuck in a big Hobbit’s world,” Bofur cries, his hand clutched to his chest. “No wonder she’s taking the opportunity.” 

Bilbo rolls his eyes and resolutely ignores him. Madge dances ahead, her little gift from Thorin glinting in a rare patch of light as the King himself openly watches. 

They make it to the top in decent time, though the sun rarely shines through the canopy. It’s only technically safer than any other part of the forest, with the one advantage being the high ground. Still, Thorin signals for them to make camp. All around, the now familiar sounds of his companions unpacking rises up, strangely comforting in the repetition. Bilbo eagerly drops his pack to the ground, putting his arms in the air to stretch his back. It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, but it’s still more work than he’d done in years. 

“Bilbo?” Dori calls out to him. “Can you help me with this?”

“Of course,” Bilbo responds, eager to continue whatever new sort of truce Dori seems to want with him. Ever since Nori had taken a shine to them, Dori had been coming around, bringing them food, complaining about whatever ‘uncivilized’ things he had seen Beorn’s household do. Not always the most exciting, but certainly better than the stony hostility from before. 

‘This’ turns out to be building a fire out of rather damp wood, something he’s not surprised the Dwarves have limited experience with under the cover of mountains. Lucky for them, he has plenty of it from taking day trips back and forth across the green lands, often wet with rain. He hums as he works, trying to keep the mood light as Fili and Kili talk over his shoulder, giving pointless and often contradictory advice, but all the while he feels he’s being watched. 

He glances up, thinking he’ll catch Thorin at it again, but he’s busy consulting a map with Balin. 

“How about a round of questions?” Kili asks, more loudly than necessary, when the fire is done and the food is cooking. 

Bilbo sits back on his heels. “I don’t see why not.” 

“That’s a great idea!” Ori calls out, from some distance away, causing Fili and Kili to snicker and Balin to send Bilbo a meaningful look. 

“It was Kili’s,” Bilbo responds, rather helplessly as Ori gets up and sits next to him. Madge, rather pointedly, goes and sits beside Fili, curled up against his boot. Fili catches a glare from Thorin and puts his hands on his knees, eyeing her carefully. 

Kili claps his hands together. “Alright. I have a question,” he says, ignoring the protests of some of the others. “Yes! It’s my game. And I want to know how far can a daemon go from their hobbit?”

Gloin scoffs. “That’s not a good-” 

“Yes!” Fili jumps to his brother’s defense. “Remember we saw Bilbo and Madge get hurt from being separated.” 

Gloin rolls his eyes. “I think that had more to do with the fact that a troll threw her against a tree lad.” 

Madge pops her head up from her crossed paws. “It was both! We can’t go far.” 

“Why not?” 

“It hurts,” Bilbo explains. “It’s unnatural, and so it feel like…” He waves a hand. “Like being too far from you soul.” 

Kili frowns. “Well what does that mean?”

“It’s like being squeezed,” Madge says, wrinkling her nose. “Like all your muscles hurt at the same time, but worse, because it’s in your heart.” 

Bilbo casts a glance in Nori’s direction, suddenly regretting this line of questioning. But Nori isn’t paying attention, too busy staring down at his pack, rustling through it with a pinched look on his face. He looks away before he can be caught and catches Thorin’s eye, on the other side of the small fire with his pipe. Thorin raises an eyebrow at him. 

“And what of your questions, Master Burglar?” 

Bilbo bites his lip, trying to think of something inoffensive, but it’s Madge that answers. “The same.” 

Thorin huffs, and fiddles with his pipe. “What do you mean?” 

“How far can you be from your Gathol?” 

“When it is whole?” Ori asks, apparently confused. “There is no limit.” 

“Sort of,” Kili says, and Fili nods. 

“You wouldn’t just...go wandering around without it,” Fili continues. 

“Right. Unless you were in a safe place.” 

“Like Rivendell?” Bilbo asks, remembering seeing Dori without his there. Most of the party makes a face, but few disagree. Bifur even nods. 

“Well what about-” Madge starts, but Kili cuts her off. 

“No! It’s our turn again.” 

“Yes,” Fili says emphatically. “Let’s think of-”

“What happens when a daemon dies?” 

Everyone freezes, casting glances at Nori, who had just spoken for the first time in hours. Bilbo squeezes his hands together. But why that? He might not understand everything, but he understands enough to know how sensitive it was, how important. Nori just looks back at him, eyebrows raised. 

Ori’s eyes had gone wide. “Uh, we don’t have to-” 

“No, it’s fine,” Bilbo says, pretending that he was back in Shire at one of his great aunts particularly awkward dinner parties. He once had to explain to an entire table of his extended family why he had thought it was a good idea to try to climb down from the top floor of the Great Smials at fifteen years old, subsequently landing on top of his uncle and breaking his arm. This was not necessarily easier than that, but it wasn’t too terribly worse. Besides, Nori had already told Bilbo what he wanted from him. 

“When a daemon dies, or the other way around, the other side dies as well,” Bilbo says, as matter of factly as he can. “A daemon holder dies like any other being, becoming a corpse, while the daemon itself returns to dust.” 

“What?” Oin asks, frowning. 

“We dissolve into a light colored dust,” Madge says. “Have you never seen it?” 

“I did,” Gloin says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Like fireworks on the battlefield.” 

A few of the older Dwarves nod. Bilbo nods back. “Yes. Then typically the name of the daemon is included on the gravestone, or their image.” 

“Old Kings of man would use daemon stones!” Madge continues. “Like medallions with the name and likeness carved.”

“Fitting,” Kili says, and a few of the Dwarves nod back. “We do a similar thing.” 

“Yes,” Fili responds, excited. “We-” 

“But that doesn’t seem fair,” Ori interrupts. “Why should both have to die?” 

“I don’t know,” Bilbo muses. “It’s difficult to think of it happening another way. I mean,” he says, attempting to be delicate for Nori’s sake, and he realizes, for Thorin as well. “That’s just the way it is.” 

“Well-” 

“Is that what you would want? To die rather than live without her?” Dwalin asks, speaking loudly and crossing his arms. Some of the other grumble, but they all look back at Bilbo, waiting. 

“That’s two questions in a row,” Bilbo says, but no one agrees, so he evades instead. “In any case, it isn’t a choice.” 

Nori had turned all the way around, focusing in on the conversation, and Bilbo feels his eyes on him like a brand. Dwalin scowls. “But if it were.” 

Madge had been slowly moving back to Bilbo’s side since this line of questioning had started, and slips into his lap. He’d never do without her, but how could he say so here? Bilbo straightens his spine, unwilling to hurt anyone, even for the sake of honesty.

“I don’t know if it’s better or worse,” Madge says, looking at Thorin, who is not looking at anyone. “Perhaps it is just different.” 

“Different isn’t a judgement call,” Gloin says, somewhat disapprovingly. “That tells us nothing.” 

“Not necessarily,” Bilbo responds, his heart beating fast. Thorin glances up. “Maybe...you all told me once that you were made separately from the rest of us. That you were created by another.” 

“Yes,” Bofur confirms, always supportive, always there. Bilbo smiles over at him gratefully.

“Well then maybe we with daemons were made to be complete, and you were made to be strong, to be able to rebuild,” Bilbo says, more firmly than he feels. “It is different, and I don’t see anything wrong with that.” 

Quiet descends over the circle, broken only when Thorin speaks, as though they had been waiting for the King all along. 

“I agree.” 

They stop playing after that, breaking off into small groups and eventually falling asleep together. The fire stays lit somehow, letting them have one more night of safety. Nori puts himself between Bilbo and Ori, and makes space for Madge to stay warm between them. 

***

“I cannot believe we have to do this,” Bilbo mutters as he climbs further up the tree, Madge following close behind, all ease for now, but he knows she’ll dig her claws into his shoulders on the way down. “Why us?” 

“We’re smallest.” 

“We’re disposable,” Bilbo complains, thinking back on days of increased irritability and sharpness. “Now that we’re lost, I don’t know what-” 

“There!” Madge cries and jumps ahead, making for the break in the gloom. 

Bilbo pulls himself up after her, annoyed, ready to knock her back down. Then he surfaces, and it’s like a heavy blanket being pulled off his face. “Oh!” 

Fresh air fills his lungs, and the sun touches his face. “Well I never!” 

“Isn’t it wonderful!” Madge climbs onto his shoulders, purring and rubbing her face against his neck. Bilbo laughs. It really is. 

From above the forest looks completely different. Butterflies dance around them, brushing his face and darting away from Madge as she playfully swipes at them. It looks like a place of possibility and growth, rather than a dank and dangerous pit. Bilbo takes another deep breath, scanning the horizon. 

“There’s the mountain!” 

“We have to show the others.”

“Yes,” Bilbo nods, still looking at it, rising tall and proud over the horizon. “Not just because of that though. I think the air down there might be making us all-” 

“Crazy?” 

“Belligerent,” Bilbo nods, thinking back on days of squabbling and petty disputes. It hadn’t helped that Bombur had fallen in the enchanted water, and Nori had stopped speaking altogether. Ori had become nearly unbearable, following at Bilbo’s heels, complaining constantly. Yesterday, Bilbo had turned and snapped at him, told him to keep ten feet between them at all times. The resulting argument probably could have been heard from Beorn’s, which for all the knew might be right in front of them, lost as they are. Thorin had finally put a stop to it, physically pulling Bilbo and Madge up to the front with him like misbehaving children. 

Bilbo breathes deeply again, and notices something move to his left. 

“Hello,” a low, female voice says. 

Bilbo scowls and turns. “Hello, Anar.” 

“Or are we speaking to Gandalf as well?” Madges gripes.

The eagle just cocks its head to the side, studying them. “You seem well.” 

“Well we’re not,” Bilbo insists. “We’re lost. Where have you been?”

“Far afield,” she responds, looking far too amused for a bird. “It is good to see you alive.” 

“We might not be for very long,” Bilbo says, trying to impress upon her the gravity of the situation. “We must find our way out.” 

Anar looks around. “Perhaps you might start by finding the ground.” 

“Thank you so much,” Madge says, and swipes at her, less playfully this time. Bilbo jostles her on his shoulder. 

“Do you have any news of Gandalf?” 

The wind blows gently, brushing Anar’s golden tinted feathers up a bit. She shifts delicately. “He is conducting important business.” 

Madge huffs. “So are we, or at least, we would be.” 

“You will be again.” 

Bilbo frowns. “How? Are we headed the right way? 

Anar pointedly looks over her shoulder at the mountain. “I suspect not, but-”

“Can you not just tell us what to do?” Madge demands. Anar puffs up somewhat, shifting from foot to foot. “Oh, have we ruffled your feathers?” 

Anar gives her a hard look. “Hardly.” 

Bilbo picks Madge up and off his shoulders. “Look, we just-” 

Anar suddenly looks to the left and freezes, holding herself at complete attention for a long moment before spreading her wings. “There is danger. We must move, and I will do what I can. Watch out for the spiders.” 

Bilbo blanches. “What?” 

But Anar is already jumping off from the branch and launching herself into the air, the picture of grace and precision. She catches the wind, shooting upwards. Then she folds her wings and drops, plummeting down from the sky, back towards the trees. Bilbo leans away, alarmed, but she hits the tree line several feets away from them, disappearing into it with the dull sound of breaking twigs and rustling leaves. 

Bilbo and Madge share a long look, and then they’re scrambling back down, following after her, which quickly proves impossible. 

“Why couldn’t you have been a bird,” Bilbo grouses, moving unsteadily from one branch to another, Madge plastered against his back. 

“As though that would have helped,” she hisses back, her ears folded back. 

“A squirrel then, you-”

“Shh!” Madge perks up, and Bilbo freezes. “Something’s there.” 

“Spiders,” Bilbo whispers back, unable to see anything but completely sure. 

Madge doesn’t respond, which is worse, really. 

The ensuing hours are some of the worst and also most exciting of their life. Invisible, they creep along to the spiders’ nest and free their friends, Anar occasionally swooping down as a distraction, their three voices confusing the hoard of eight legged monsters to the point of chaos. 

The dwarves they drop to the ground in their web casings, slowly lowering them under Anar’s sharp supervision. “I will free them,” Anar says, and flies to the ground. 

Bilbo and Madge climb down more slowly, taking a circuitous route around the surrounding trees that is interrupted by one last interoper, the bravest of the hellish spiders. 

“Found you!” it hisses, it’s voice half human and half beast, but luckily towards the dwarves on the ground and not at them, still unseen. 

Bilbo moves on instinct, following it a little farther away from the group, and coming around from the side. They attack it together, Bilbo grateful for the way that Madge jumps onto the creature’s back to distract it so he can plunge Sting into the space between its eyes, killing it instantly. Madge jumps back to him as it dies, disturbed and throwing him off balance enough while he pulls the sword from it’s face that he leans too far. When the sword comes back, Bilbo throws his arm out with it, and the ring flies off his finger, shooting off and into the forest. 

“No!” Madge cries, and digs her nails into his shoulder. Bilbo turns, confused, then she jumps. 

At first it’s only a surprise. Then it’s a shock as she starts to fall, farther and farther away from him, separating them. He feels her hit the ground, her body made for it. But the shock of the impact runs up his legs, painful and sharp. Bilbo gasps and scrambles down after her, unable to jump the same distance. 

The ring! He falls the last few feet and lands in a heap before scrambling back up, getting his legs under him. They have to find it. 

Pain blooms around his spine and shoulders as she runs away from him, tearing through underbrush and darting around trees. He can’t keep up, but he tries anyway, ignoring the pain. Vaguely, he hears yelling. Arguing. But he keeps going, eyes to the ground, looking for gold. 

“Bilbo!” 

Madge. 

He turns, following his instinct to get back to her, and finds her behind a tree, the ring between her paws. Bilbo gasps and scoops them both up, holding Madge up near his face. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes,” Madge squirms in his arms. “Where did- where are the others?” 

“I don’t know,” Bilbo says, looking around as he slips the ring back on. The pain had started to recede, but not enough to be completely gone. His feet hurt, his back felt like he had tried to pick up something far too heavy for them. Madge had _jumped_ away from him. 

“I was scared.” 

“Me too,” Bilbo says, looking up, but of course there is no sun. 

“We have to get back. There’s no time-” 

“Yes.” Bilbo tucks her into his arms, against his pounding heart, and runs.


End file.
